


AFTERMATH - ONE

by T Roubles (DustyP)



Category: The A Team (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 69,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyP/pseuds/T%20Roubles
Summary: This is the story of what happened after the events in Outrage.How the four friends coped with the aftermath of Face's savage assault.How they faced old memories and new challenges.It took me a long time to write, but I enjoyed the challenge of writing a much longer story than I have ever done.
Relationships: Hannibal/Face
Kudos: 2





	AFTERMATH - ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Outrage.  
> It took me a long time to write  
> Many thanks to my friend Beano for the long, late-night phone calls when we discussed ideas and plots, and who, together with Sandbar, encouraged me when I thought I'd never finish it.  
> Thanks girls.

A F T E R M A T H  
by  
T. Roubles

The noonday sun was shining, so bright and strong it made the blue of the sky seem pale by comparison. Yet no matter how deep or bright, the blue, it could never match the colour of his lover's eyes, thought Templeton Peck, with an inward sense of pride and satisfaction.  
Those eyes were watching him now, so full of love and tenderness that Face wondered how he could ever have doubted the older man's love for him. The past couple of months had been a waking nightmare of gigantic dimensions, each small step he'd taken forward had been matched by setback after setback, until Face had despaired of ever being able to feel his normal fit and active self, or of ever trusting anyone again. Emotionally he was a wreck: his physical injuries from the rape and beatings he'd been subjected to, were healing slowly, but the mental torment had gone a lot deeper. Face had began to feel he was losing his mind, every day he'd sunk a little deeper into an unreal world which was dominated almost constantly by images of the men who had so cruelly abused him; their lewd, sneering words and even more sadistic actions tormented him waking and sleeping. Yet through all his mental and physical anguish, Hannibal had been there with him, taking everything thrown at him by his younger friend, no matter how petty, sardonic or peevish, never retaliating physically, or verbally, until that last row. A row of epic proportions when Hannibal had forced him to face his worst fears; to admit out loud that he had been tortured and beaten over a period of time by a group of pitiless men who had violently raped him. Even that hadn't satisfied their perverted lust, they had continued to physically and mentally torment their captive in ways that Peck hadn't believed possible in supposedly civilised humans.  
He still had not recovered completely from the abuse, although now, three weeks after the confrontation with his leader, lover and friend, Peck had found the courage to venture out on his own.  
That was the source of the pride and love shining in his Colonel’s blue eyes, and Peck’s own sea-green eyes were brimming over with a sense of achievement mixed with a hint of inner panic.   
Today he was going out - alone - to buy himself a new suit. He had regained some of the weight lost during his recent illness, and had determined to celebrate with something new - and expensive. Hannibal had agreed that he'd earned it.  
He had been out alone to his doctor's office for treatment, but that had entailed a taxi cab from door to door, he hadn't wanted to drive his beloved Corvette. Three days ago he'd finally managed to venture into the street, had even walked in the small park two blocks away: he'd been uneasy at the amount of people he'd met, but the park hadn't been too crowded, and he'd enjoyed the scent of the flowers and trees, which were decked out in their summer best. He'd only been out for two hours and although he couldn't swear to it, he had a suspicion that Hannibal had followed him. He'd come back damp with perspiration, but a little less tense, to find Hannibal waiting calmly with a cool drink, a warm meal, and an even warmer welcoming kiss.  
Peck could still remember the warmth and security of that embrace and the pride in Hannibal's voice as he'd asked casually: “How was it?”  
Peck had shrugged, also keeping it cool. “Okay. A bit too warm for walking, but it was nice to see something besides four walls,” he'd glanced around the tastefully furnished apartment. “No matter how wonderful they are.”  
The past two days had been spent talking over plans for a holiday together and they'd gone to visit Murdock and B.A. to show them how well he was doing. Peck had managed to stammer his thanks for their patience and friendship and had received a brief hug from B.A. who had then growled at him for being too thin and stomped away, embarrassed by his show of emotion.  
Murdock had been less inhibited, though not as boisterous as usual, merely swinging his smaller friend off his feet and plonking a kiss on the top of his blond head. Murdock had also given him a gift: a tiny golden dragon with emerald-green eyes, which he solemnly declared was Peck's twin, as it matched his hair and eyes. He also swore that it would bring him good luck and prosperity, although he couldn`t guarantee that. Peck had tears of thankfulness in his eyes as he'd thanked the pilot, grateful beyond measure that he hadn't driven his friends away for good with his recent behaviour. Murdock had pinned the dragon to the lapel of his white, summer-weight jacket and declared that it suited him just fine. Hannibal had cleared his throat which had suddenly become clogged with emotion and clapped the tall pilot on the shoulder, his sapphire eyes eloquently expressing his thanks.  
Now, on this sunny Monday morning, Peck was ready to face another part of his earlier world - The Mall - with all its bright shop-window displays, noisy cafes', music, and most fearsome of all - people.  
He stood before his Colonel, ramrod straight, looking into the vivid blue eyes of his slightly taller lover. “Well, do I pass inspection?” he murmured.  
Stepping back slightly, Smith admired the slim figure dressed in chocolate brown slacks, cream open-necked shirt and ivory leather jacket, nodding approval as he raised his eyes to the handsome face, the way the smooth fair hair fell nearly to the slightly apprehensive green eyes and lingered on the smiling mouth.  
He closed the distance between them and gently took Face into his arms, brushing his brow and then his mouth with a warm kiss. “Oh yes, Templeton my love, you'll do just fine.”  
Face's pale cheeks coloured at the tone and the kiss. He raised one hand touching Smith's cheek with his fingertips. “Thanks, Hannibal.”  
Smith tightened his embrace slightly, then released his Lieutenant, not wanting to push Tem further then he was willing to go.  
Although things had been a lot easier between them since their long and difficult talk a few week's ago, they still had not gained the level of intimacy they'd been used to before the Maddox case had disrupted and almost destroyed, their lives. They now shared a room and the same bed; sometimes when Peck would toss and turn as the nightmares returned to haunt him, Hannibal would hold his partner in a gentle, non-sexual embrace, stroke the soft blond hair and soothe him with quiet words until the younger man settled peacefully beside him, and Smith would be content to hold him safely until the morning.  
Hannibal was waiting as patiently as he could for the day when he could make love to his beautiful lover as he once had, wishing he could feel Tem's ardent response to Hannibal's total possession of his willing body, as he joined them in passionate and joyful union. Smith repressed a sigh, that bonding was still some time away, but he hoped that they would be one again, no matter how long it took. Yet, even if that day never came, he would still be at Peck's side, because the love he had for his fair and vulnerable colleague far exceeded the physical attraction they felt for each other: He loved Peck with all his heart and soul and could never willingly be parted from him, whatever the reason.   
Peck gently stepped back, unwilling to leave the sanctuary of Smith's arms, but determined to take the step he'd planned for today. He wagged an admonishing finger at the older man. “No following me this time, okay?”  
Hannibal raised an innocent eyebrow. “Who? Me? Now, would I do that?”  
Peck grinned and mock-punched him on the chest. “Yeah, you would.” He fiddled with Smith's shirt collar a second. “I appreciate the concern, Hannibal, but I have to do this by myself. I could feel you protecting me - and...and that's fine...but this time, I need to try alone.” He raised anxious eyes. “Okay?”  
Hannibal covered the nervous hand with his own and nodded. “Okay, Lieutenant, I understand.” He walked with Peck to the door of the apartment. “Can I ask where you're going?”  
Peck grinned. “Sure. I'm going to the Mall and then to Rodeo Drive, or,” he grinned, “the other way round.”  
“Ah.” Hannibal reached for the door knob. “So Mr. Jerry Johnson is going to make a certain Mr. Andre's day?”  
"Got it in one." smiled Peck. He winked cheerfully as Smith opened the door for him. "I might even get a hair cut," he added as he brushed his long fringe out of his eyes.  
“Oh, that would be a shame,” said Hannibal, not liking the thought of that shining mane cut short.  
Peck gave the older man a brief kiss on the cheek, “Well, maybe not too short,” he compromised. “Just so I can see where I'm going.” He waved, then walked steadily out of the apartment towards the elevator.  
Smith watched him go with mixed feelings. He wanted to follow his lover as he’d done the other day in the Park, but knew that Peck really did have to find his own feet; and he had given his word, although that wouldn't have stopped him if he felt his Lieutenant was in any danger. Sighing he waited until the elevator doors had closed on the slender figure of his partner and went back into the apartment.   
Face walked to the end of the block where he was sure to pick up a taxi, wishing he had his Corvette; he thought he was now ready to drive the sleek white vehicle, but B.A. was giving it a good overhaul and hadn't finished with it yet.   
He went to the Mall first, the cab dropping him in front of the glass-walled entrance.   
He walked slowly and steadily to the escalator and stood still, one hand on the rail, letting the moving stairs carry him up to the third floor. He was surprised at how loud and bright everything seemed to be. His recently self-imposed isolation had made him forget just how noisy the modern world could be. He began to wish he'd allowed Hannibal to come with him, someone to talk and walk with would've been welcome: of course it would have to be a certain particular someone, with silver hair and a very infectious grin, Peck managed a small smile to himself, wondering if Hannibal had followed him. If the Colonel had done so, Face hadn't yet, been able to detect him.  
He strolled along the brightly paved walkways, glancing into the shop fronts, not really looking for anything in particular, but hoping that something would catch his eye that he could buy for Hannibal and Murdock, maybe even something for B.A. It would be a nice gesture for all the time they'd spent with him lately.  
He attracted many an admiring glance from the people he passed, who, even in their single-minded pursuit of the best bargains, found time to watch the tall, slim figure of the handsome young man. The ivory colour and shine of the soft leather jacket complementing his fair good looks.  
Peck walked slowly along the many different walkways, finding one or two of his favourite stores, but he was starting to feel tired. He thought he might go and have a coffee at the small restaurant he and Hannibal used when they were here, but finding it unbearably full of early lunch-time shoppers, decided to give it a miss. The blare of music and the general noise of the crowds shopping, greeting each other, talking and laughing, were beginning to give him a headache, and he rubbed his forehead, a small frown settling between his dark eyebrows.   
Looking around to get his bearings, he was attracted to a nearby store. He smiled to himself. Just the thing for Murdock. It was a Disney Store and he was sure to find something for the pilot in here. Murdock was driving them all crazy at present as he was going through a Mickey Mouse phase, the voices of the famous cartoon characters coming at them through the telephone, from behind half-open doors, even when Face was trying to eat, or sleep, Goofy was talking into his ear. Perhaps a T-shirt with Goofy on the front would be appropriate. H.M. liked T-shirts with different slogans and cartoons.  
He was sorting through racks of various coloured shirts when he happened to glance out of the window at a couple of men walking past the shop. He tensed, his hand clenching on the chrome rail holding the shirts as a tide of blackness swirled in front of his eyes: those men - they looked like two of Maddox's thugs: one of them the brute who had burned him with the cigars. He could feel the healed burns on his flesh burning again, and felt sick, his knees shaking with reaction. No, it couldn't be, the guy was in prison, where Peck hoped he would rot for what he'd done to him and many others. He shrank back, ducking behind the rails of brightly coloured clothes, the zany characters on every piece of merchandise seemed to be mocking him for his fear. Well, he had a right to be afraid, didn't he? What those bastards had done to him would make anyone afraid - but he wasn't just anyone, was he? He was Lieutenant Templeton Arthur Peck, and he was a valued member of an elite group of men - the A-Team: the sound of Hannibal's voice barking orders came to him out of the mist that swirled about him: "Hey, Lieutenant, you got 'em?" and his own voice, cool and calm amidst the fading din of a fire fight: "I got 'em, Colonel!" He shook his head, he couldn't let his fear rule him. He'd been afraid many times in his life: in his childhood, when he'd been overlooked for fostering, or adoption; or even worse when he had been taken into a family, and then brought back because "the kid just doesn't fit in with us": he'd been terrified in the jungle during the war that had taken so many lives; and when they'd had to go on the run, with countless numbers of people all looking to capture the A-Team. Then, at least, he'd had his true friends around him - and Hannibal: during the war and afterwards, his Colonel had always been there for them all. He couldn't let the Colonel down, he wouldn't give in to those bastards, phantoms from his overwrought imagination - they weren't there, it was just his mind playing tricks. Even as he tried to convince himself that he was mistaken, the men had disappeared into the crowd.   
Maybe this shopping trip hadn't been such a good idea, after all. He needed Hannibal, he couldn't cope with all this. Peck gave himself a mental shake, beating back the rising tide of panic. Yes, he could, he was just tired.  
"Are you all right, sir? Can I help?" The teenage assistant, dressed in Mickey Mouse shirt and shorts, was beside him, concern clouding her cheerful face. She reached out a hand, and Peck instinctively shrank back, then managed to get his scamming mode kick-started again.   
He smiled wanly. "No, thank you. I’ve been ill, and really walked too far today." He gave her a brave smile that melted her little Minnie Mouse socks. "I'll be fine, thank you." He patted her arm and walked slowly to the doorway.   
Glancing nervously around, he turned to his right, in the opposite direction the two men had taken and forced himself to walk steadily away.  
Finding a sign marking the next exit, Face decided he'd had enough of The Mall, and made up his mind to get a cab to the more fashionable - and expensive - establishments on Rodeo Drive. The thought of the quiet, air conditioned stores, where he could be sure of individual attention from the senior managers, with most of whom he was on first name terms, cheered him up immediately, and he lost no time in running down the steps and hailing a cab.

Half an hour later, the cab dropped him at the end of Rodeo Drive, and Face took a deep breath. There were people here too, crowds milling on and off the sidewalk, visitors and residents of L.A. being dropped off in front of individual stores by chauffeur-driven, grey stretch limousines. He didn't feel threatened here, maybe because he was in the open air. The tourists, whose different accents ranged from the sing-song of camera-draped Japanese, to the slower, more understandable language of the English-speaking tourists.   
Face noticed a group of three young women, whose accents marked them as British, peering excitedly into the expensive shop fronts; their fair skins flushed with pleasure and the hot Californian sun. Their obvious pleasure brought a smile to Peck's face and he nodded a greeting:  
"Afternoon, ladies. Are you having a good vacation?"   
They looked startled for a moment, then smiled back at him. "Yes, thank you," they replied in their polite English way, obviously liking the look of the handsome young man.  
He could feel their eyes follow him as he walked a few yards further on to the door of an exclusive men's tailoring establishment, and heard the half-whispered comment, "Now that’s what I call a drop-dead, gorgeous, man!". There was a chorus of agreement from the other two. Turning back, Face winked at the three girls, making them blush with pleasure and embarrassment, then, smiling, entered the store.   
That little encounter cheered Face up a lot, there had been no threat from the English girls, just admiration and pleasure and he'd handled it as he would have done months ago before Maddox had entered his life.   
Determinedly he banished all thoughts of that man from his mind and greeted the owner of the store who came forward to meet him.   
"Ah, Mr. Johnson, how very nice to see you again. It has been a few months since we've had the pleasure of your company." The well-dressed, black-haired man, oozed affability. He knew this client very well and always attended to his needs personally.  
"Yes, it has Andre." Peck took the outstretched hand, mentally adjusting to his Jerry Johnson persona. He longed for the day when he could breeze into a store and use his own name without the threat of imminent arrest. "I've been out of the country."  
"Ah, of course. I hope you had a pleasant trip." Andre continued to make small-talk as he led Face towards the rear of the store.  
The next hour was taken up pleasurably with talk of materials, styles and dates for fitting, with Face in his element. He loved to shop for good clothes and it had been some time since he'd been able to relax enough to talk 'clothes' with an expert like Andre, and his assistant Jaques, who made the notes for his boss. "Now can I get anything else for you, Mr. Johnson?" Andre paused before dismissing Jaques, well content with the order, and besides which, it was always such a pleasure to outfit such a handsome figure of a man.  
Face started to shake his head, then paused. "Oh yes, Andre. I'd like a pair of black leather gloves - for a friend of mine," he added as Andre raised an eyebrow.  
"Of course, sir. Will you come this way, please?"  
They went out into the main part of the store where a few other customers were being attended to by various other well-dressed aides.  
Going to a an alcove, Andre pulled up a chair for his client, and proceeded to show him various styles and weights of gloves in the size Face wanted for Hannibal.  
Choosing a very expensive pair of gloves in the softest black leather he’d seen in some time, Face told Andre to add it to his account and waited until the necessary notation was made in the book and the assistant departed to gift-wrap the gloves for him.  
As Andre excused himself to attend to another favoured client, Face leaned back in his gilt chair, well pleased with the way things had gone. He was beginning to feel hungry and decided to ring Hannibal and ask him to meet him for a meal. Raising a hand he beckoned an eager assistant to him and asked to use the telephone. It was brought to him at once, and Face made the call to the apartment.  
The phone was answered on the second ring and Hannibal's well-loved voice said, "Hello?"  
"Hi there, it's me."  
"Me? Afraid I don't know anyone named ME"  
"Aw, Hannibal!"   
Peck's disgusted tone made his partner laugh softly. Ever since Face had left the apartment, Smith had tried to settle down and relax with the paper, he liked the Sports and Racing pages usually, but today he had barely skimmed them, his thoughts drifting back again and again to how Peck was managing on his own. He had gone through half a day's cigars in an hour, and had just lit another one when the ringing of the phone had made him jump. He had barely stopped himself from snatching the receiver on the first buzz, and was so relieved to hear his lover's greeting that he felt lightheaded, and inclined to tease Face. Anxious to hear what Peck had to say, however, he didn't continue with the banter.  
"Okay, Handsome, what can I do for you?"  
Face felt a faint blush colour his cheeks at the caressing note that had entered Smith's voice. "I thought you might like to meet me for a late lunch, or early dinner...whatever?"  
"Sure, I'd love too," was the immediate reply. "Where?"  
"How about meeting me at Mario's about..." Face glanced at his gold wristwatch, calculating how long it would take Hannibal to reach the restaurant, "oh, say, about 3.45....okay?"  
"Will do, kid...I'm on my way. Bye."   
Jubilant, Smith picked up his denim jacket and was out of the door.   
Smiling slightly, Face handed back the brown telephone and got up.  
Taking farewell of Andre and Jaques took up ten minutes and with Hannibal's present tucked into his inside pocket, Face left the store.  
Feeling like a walk, he didn't bother with a cab and took his time enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sunshine on his skin.  
He got to the restaurant about 3.30p.m. and being recognised by the owner Mario, was hugged enthusiastically before being escorted to his usual table. He and Hannibal liked this particular table, it was set in a corner at such an angle that the curved leather-padded back and sides of the little alcove, gave the illusion of privacy, although at present there were only a few tables occupied. Glancing round, Face checked that no one he knew was visible and nodded in satisfaction. Telling Mario he was waiting for the Colonel, he slid behind the table. The owner nodded, knowing the Team of old and handed Peck a menu. Ordering a drink, Face took off his leather jacket, settled it on the wide bench seat beside him and sat back to study the gold-edged card set in the red leather folder.  
After a short time, Peck became aware of someone standing beside the table and he glanced up expecting the waiter with his vodka cocktail.  
The man standing beside him didn't have a tray holding his drink, he did have a smile on his face, but it wasn't a nice smile, in fact it was a mixture of anger and savage triumph.  
"Hello Joey, or should it be Templeton? Well this is sure my lucky day. Who would've thought that dropping in for a meal could have such surprising results." He paused, enjoying the look of frozen disbelief on the handsome face in front of him. "It's great to see you again."  
The blood drained slowly from Peck's face, he felt as though he was falling into a dark, deep hole. His heart began to hammer in his chest, he couldn't breathe, and the man's voice came faintly through the thundering in his ears.  
"May I sit down?" The thickset man opened the straining button on his coat, and squeezed onto the seat opposite the stunned young man.  
Face shrank back against the padded leather behind him trying to get as far away from the other man as possible. He felt trapped, both physically and mentally.   
This couldn't be happening, it just could not. Maddox was in jail, he couldn’t be here.  
His flesh crawled and he felt the sickness boil up into his throat, as the hated voice continued to goad him.  
"It's such a pleasure meeting you again. I can't tell you how much we, my friends and I, enjoyed your..." The drug-boss paused, a leering smile distorting his wet-lipped mouth as his eyes roved lustfully over Peck's face and silk-clad torso "...your company."   
He leaned forward across the table, as though confiding important information “We’re all looking forward to meeting up again, we had such a good time: you must try out my new bungalow,” he waved an expansive hand. “It’s got all the modern conveniences, TV, stereo, surveillance cameras, with in-room viewing. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself as much as before.” He smiled slyly, showing ugly, smoke-stained teeth as Face flinched, mutely shaking his head, his eyes dark with dread.  
“Yes, I’m sure you will, you’re such a gorgeous piece of goods, you could be a film star the way you look on camera, that hair...that golden skin...and that mouth...” He smacked his lips in exaggerated lasciviousness. His garlic-laden breath reached Face over the table and made Peck want to retch.  
The burly man put out a hand to touch the younger man’s smooth-skinned cheek and his expression darkened as the blond head was jerked out of his reach.  
“Don’t... don’t touch me, you piece of filth.” Face tried to keep the quaver out of his voice, but knew he hadn`t been entirely successful. Up until then, stunned with surprised horror, he hadn’t been able to voice any kind of protest, but the mere thought of that hand touching him again, made him sick with remembered pain and fear.  
“Oh, I see. You’re still a trifle shy, but I’m sure you’ll find us as entertaining as before.” Maddox glanced round, and seeing a waiter approaching with a tray holding one glass, he leaned closer and whispered venomously. “Make no mistake Mr. Smart-Alec Peck, I can have you whenever I want, you’ll always be within my reach, then we can have such fun together, can’t we?”  
Face shuddered and shook his head, denying such an atrocity, but although his mouth shaped the word “No... no...” only a faint whisper escaped his dry lips.  
The waiter was standing politely at the table, “Your cocktail, sir,” he said, placing the glass down in front of Peck. He looked at the second man. “Will you require anything to drink, sir?”  
“No, I’m not staying.”   
The heavy set man heaved himself out from under the table and smiled down at the young man sitting so still. “I’ll see you again...soon," he threatened and walked off, beckoning a second man standing nearby to follow him.  
The waiter stood for a few moments, then when the blond young man didn't say anything, bowed slightly and went back to his station.  
Face's eyes had followed the glass down to the table and he sat staring into the clear liquid seeing a distorted reflection of himself staring back. He couldn't believe it, he was in a nightmare and would wake up any second. Yes that was it. He was at home - in bed - and Hannibal's arms would be round him in a minute, comforting and secure. Maddox couldn't be here, he was in jail. Of course, that was it. A horrible, very realistic nightmare, and he would wake up any minute, safe in his Colonel's arms - wouldn't he?  
The images still came, however, all in Technicolor.  
Maddox and his particular friend Peterson, the big Norwegian Svenson and that horrible fat pig Weinberg: their faces grinned at him from the glass, leering at him. He could feel their hands on him, in his hair, tearing at his clothes; their faces ballooning larger and larger, their mouths reaching for him. Nooo...oh please God...no more...no more... can't stand it. Can't happen again... won't let it happen... can't watch, mustn't watch... won't watch any more.   
He started to shiver, his hands jammed together on the table top to try and stop them shaking so badly, he felt helpless...scared...angry...and knew he was going to crack into a million pieces.  
Someone was talking to him, but he couldn't look up, the images in the glass beckoning, urging him to surrender...give in...give up.  
"Tem...Tem...look at me...come on, kid...look at me...it's Hannibal." Smith's voice was tense with anxiety.   
The taxi had dropped him outside just a couple of minutes ago, and he’d come hurrying into the restaurant, a smile on his handsome face, looking forward to sharing a meal with his favourite person. Mario had greeted him boisterously and waved him straight to their favourite corner.   
Smith had bounded up the four steps to the main floor of the restaurant and gone straight to the table. He knew immediately that something serious had happened. His young partner's face was bloodless, even his lips were grey and his eyes, dark with despair, were fixed on the cocktail glass in front of him, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists.  
Smith slid in beside him, covering Peck's hands in his. The flesh was cold and stiff with tension.   
"Tem...Tem...it's Hannibal...look at me. Please Face... look at me." The Colonel was scared, this wasn't like any reaction he'd seen before. Peck looked almost catatonic.  
He touched the bloodless chin, turning the blond head towards him. Peck didn't resist, but his eyes slid sideways, still looking at the glass.  
"Come on Tem...talk to me...what happened?"  
He stroked a thumb over the knuckles of the hands he held, trying to loosen their desperate grip and touched his other hand to Face's hair, smoothing it away from the broad forehead.  
"Face, Face, come on kid, tell me what happened."  
Still no reaction, except the trembling had grown noticeably more violent. He urged the fair head down onto his shoulder, stroking the nape of Peck's neck and down the back of his silk covered back, feeling the tension in every line of the slender body.  
He continued to stroke the trembling body of his lover, not caring if anyone saw them, whispering soft words of love and reassurance into Face's nearest ear, not knowing what else to do.   
Suddenly, Peck tensed and tried to struggle free. "No...No...No... mustn't watch... can't watch... Hannibal, where are you?"  
"I'm here, Tem, I'm right here, everything will be okay.”  
Peck risked a glance upwards and through the swimming water in his eyes, recognised the concerned face of his partner and realised he was safe, for the moment.  
He sighed and his body went limp with relief, his hands unlocked and reached out to clutch Hannibal’s biceps, holding on as if to a lifeline. Smith gave a tiny sigh of relief, at least now he would be able to get him home.   
Raising his head he saw Mario approaching, the Italian-American's cheerful smile changing to a look of concern as he saw the state of one of his favourite patrons.  
"Colonel..." he forgot that he wasn't supposed to call Smith that and leaned closer to shield the table from any curious eyes. "What is wrong?"  
"He seems to have had a helluva shock, Mario. Can you call a cab for us, please?"  
"Sure thing, Colonel."   
The big Italian turned away and hurried to the tiny office beside the kitchen. A few minutes later he was back again.   
"My cousin Vincento is just outside, he'll take you wherever you want to go."  
Smith was thankful for the many and varied relatives that the restaurant owner seemed to have, and nodded, "Thanks Mario."   
He turned to his partner sitting silently beside him, hands still holding his arms.  
"Come on Tem, we're going home. Can you walk?"  
Peck lifted haunted green eyes. Walk? Yeah, sure he could walk, he'd been walking...oh, for years and years. He nodded.  
"Good kid...let's get your jacket."  
He reached over and picked up Peck's leather coat and managed to get his lover's arms into the sleeves and then slid out from under the table and gently urged Peck to do the same.  
Face followed, automatically tugging his jacket straight. Holding tightly to Hannibal's arm, he lifted his chin, and walked steadily down the steps and into the street.  
Smith thought he may just burst with pride. Traumatised as he was, his Lieutenant was showing the kind of courage that had helped him survive the many horrors that had befallen him in the past.  
Vincento was waiting on the kerb, leaning against the side of his white taxicab. He was a black-haired, good looking young man in his early twenties, with the swarthy skin and flashing black eyes of his Mediterranean ancestry.  
He straightened up at their approach. "Hey, Colonel, where you wanna go?"  
He looked at Peck, made to say something, then a harder glance at the white-faced blond made him decide otherwise, for which Smith was grateful.  
He gave the young Italian the address of their apartment and held the door for his younger colleague.  
Peck slid into the taxi without a word and as soon as Smith got in beside him, took hold of his arm again. He seemed to find comfort and reassurance just keeping in contact with his partner.  
Smith tugged free gently and put the arm around the leather-coated shoulders, holding him securely against his side. Peck immediately grasped his other arm, half lying across his Colonel's chest.  
By the time they reached the apartment, Peck seemed to be dozing and Smith had to shake him slightly. "Face, Face...we're home."  
"Home?"  
"Yes, kid...come on, get out."  
Peck frowned: funny sort of dream ...walk... get in a cab... get out of cab - still, whatever Hannibal wanted was okay with him.  
He blinked, there was a smoky-grey haze in front of his eyes, must be smog, he thought, although he seemed to remember it had been sunny earlier.  
He half stumbled from the car and waited whilst Hannibal spoke to the driver, still keeping a hand on his partner's sleeve...he yawned, god he was tired.  
Hannibal took his arm and walked him forward. He saw the familiar doors of the elevator through the haze which had followed him into the building and the numbers flashing green as they ascended to the top floor.  
He heard Hannibal talking to him and made an effort to listen.   
"Nearly home, now kid. Soon be able to sit down."  
"Yeah, that'd be nice. I'm tired, Hannibal."  
"Sure you are, you've had a bit of a shock, a little nap and you'll be fine."  
Peck frowned at the undercurrent of fury he heard in his Colonel's voice. He turned his head slightly as they walked along the corridor to their door. "You mad at me, Hannibal?"  
Smith made an effort to keep his voice steady. "Of course I'm not mad at you, Tem.” Just whoever got you into this state, he thought savagely.  
"Oh. I see?" Face didn't really, but was too weary to ask for further explanations. As long as Hannibal wasn't mad at him, he didn't much care.  
It was the work of a few minutes for Smith to unlock the door, steer his companion into the lounge and take off his own coat and Tem's jacket.  
"You want to sit down?" At the nod of the blond head, Smith led him to the large couch and lowered him to the cushions.   
Peck sat back with a sigh of relief, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Oh that feels good."  
"You okay for a minute, kid. I just have to make a phone call."  
"Sure," Peck yawned again, closing his eyes. "No sweat, Colonel."  
Smith was reassured by the normal response and went to the phone. The answer-phone light was blinking and he lost no time in replaying the message. It was from Maloney, with a warning to be careful as Maddox and some of his men, for some strange unaccountable legal reason, had made bail until their trial in six week's time.  
The message ended with: Sorry I couldn't warn you earlier, Colonel, I've just been informed myself. Take care.  
Smith's mouth relaxed a fraction. At least Maloney had tried to warn them. He must be as mad about this as Smith was. Mad wasn't the word, he would use for himself. He was enraged that a monster like Maddox could walk out of a prison, without any restrictions worth noting, bail money was nothing to gutter-rats like Maddox and his kind. It could buy him freedom for as long as it took to threaten witnesses, buy-off the ones he couldn't scare off....or...Smith clenched his fists, his mind taking a leap forward. Had that slime turned up at Mario’s and threatened one of his victims - the young man he and his sadistic friends and tormented and used savagely for their own pleasure, no matter the cost in pain and humiliation. It was going to be Maddox's downfall that the young man was the person Smith loved more than anything in this world, the one he'd protect with his own life, if that's what it took. Of course, Smith would much rather take Maddox down without the loss of one more drop of blood - or anguish - from Templeton, Murdock. B.A. or himself. This time, the Team would deal with Maddox, as it looked as though that was the only way they would get justice for the harm he'd done to Peck and countless other lives, damaged by the filthy trade he carried out.   
Turning to look at his sprawled partner, Smith dialled the number for the V.A. He was soon through to Murdock and cutting through the pilot's rapturous, over-the-top greeting, told him what had happened and that Maddox was out on bail.  
Murdock's manner changed immediately, his voice terse and anxious. "How's Face, now?"  
Smith glanced over at the couch. "He's asleep at the moment, but I don't know, there's something not quite right."   
He paused, listening as Murdock asked, "What'd you mean, Hannibal?"  
"I'm not sure, Murdock. He seems too calm now. He was practically catatonic when I got to Mario's."  
There was silence a second, then “Could be delayed shock. D'you think you should give Maggie a call?"  
Smith rubbed his brow, frowning. "Maybe, I don't know. You know how Face feels about Maggie?"  
"Yeah." The pilot knew that Face was jealous of Maggie, although he would never dream of admitting it, to himself or any of the Team.  
"I think I might risk it," said Hannibal, "either Maggie, or Jim Hunter," mentioning Peck's college friend who had been treating him.  
"Yeah," the relief in Murdock's voice was tangible. "It would at least set your mind at rest."  
"Yeah..." Smith's tone was brisk now. "I'll be in touch, Murdock, but stay sharp. If Maddox had anything  
to do with this afternoon, you never know what a slimeball like that will do. He has no reason to like any  
of us after we broke up his little drug empire."  
"Will do, Hannibal, take care yourself...and the Faceman."  
"You can be sure of that Murdock," was the rather grim reply.  
He cut the connection then called B.A. and told him what had occurred and knew from Baracus' growl that it was a good thing that there wasn't a policeman, or lawyer within the big sergeant's reach.  
"I'll watch out, Hannibal... d'you want me to come round?"  
"Not just now, B.A. But keep your eyes peeled, I'll ring you."  
He put the phone down again and sat on the arm of the chair, taking out a cigar as he debated whether or not to call Maggie.   
It wasn't as if he didn't trust Face's doctor friend, he'd done a good job of taking care of Face after his ordeal, but he knew Maggie as a friend, as well as a doctor...oh hell!  
He picked up the phone again and called Maggie at her new surgery. She was just leaving for the day and Smith was amazed to see that it was after five o'clock.  
Keeping it businesslike, he explained what had happened and asked what he should do.  
Maggie Sullivan was an extremely good doctor, she also loved Smith even though she knew it was extremely unlikely that anything would come of it. The Colonel was committed body and soul to his Lieutenant.  
"I could just drop by, casual-like if you think that would help. I can't really advise you until I see him, sorry Hannibal."  
"Yeah, I realise that, Maggie, but there's something, I don't know exactly what... but I'm kinda worried."  
"Say no more, Colonel, I'll be there in about an hour. Okay?"  
"That's fine. Thanks Doc. I owe you another one."  
"My, my, promises, promises," she replied lightly as she rang off, her heart beating slightly faster at the prospect of seeing the silver-haired Colonel again.  
A sound from behind him made Smith turn. He smiled as he saw Peck stretch and try to sit up. He walked towards the couch, holding out his hand to help his lover up, then stopped with his hand still outstretched as Face yawned and said. "Hannibal, put the light on willya, can't see a thing. What time is it?"  
Smith's voice came out as a croak. "It's...it's five-fifteen."  
"Oh, that early huh?" Peck sat up rubbing his brow.  
Smith managed to move again, walking up to the couch, seeing the late afternoon sun reflecting from the silky golden hair.  
He sat down beside his lover and took the slim body into his arms and buried his face in the shining hair. He felt as though his heart had stopped, then it started to beat wildly. No, oh no, this couldn't be happening to them, hadn't they suffered enough through the years? Maybe he had misheard. Please God let me have misunderstood...  
"Tem...look at me."  
Face obediently turned his head towards the sound of his lover's voice; the wide open eyes were as beautiful as ever, blue-green like the ocean on a sunny day.  
"What can you see?" asked Smith a trifle hoarsely.  
Peck frowned, "Not a lot until you put the light on, I can barely see your face." He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the side of Smith's mouth. "Nice face...kinda like it."  
"What else?" insisted Smith, stroking the blond fringe aside.  
Face turned his head, and suddenly tensed.   
"Er...is there a blackout, Hannibal? Can't see any lights?"  
Smith hugged the slender body to him, trying to shut out the dreadful truth for both of them.   
Face, his wonderful, bright-eyed lover; the Unit's crack shot and the man whose keen-sighted vigilance on point had saved many a life from booby-traps in the jungles of Vietnam - was blind.  
Hannibal felt so gutted, he couldn't speak for a minute or two, he held Face's body tighter to him trying to push the harsh reality aside.   
Peck lay against him, content to be held in Smith's strong arms. Then suddenly, as his lover's distress communicated itself to him, he tensed and tried to straighten up.   
“Hannibal... what's wrong? What's the matter? You're shaking."  
Smith cleared the thickness of tears in his throat and tried to speak normally. "I'm okay, Tem, don't worry, everything will be all right."  
Peck put his hands against Smith's chest and pushed himself upright. "What d'you mean?" He paused and put his head on one side, frowning, then rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the mist from them.   
Smith sat watching, unable to help as his partner rubbed at his eyes, then peered at Smith, his face paling as the truth slowly dawned on him.  
"Hannibal," the voice was brittle and very quiet. "I...I can't see you any more.”  
"Are you sure? Not just a shadow?" Smith's voice was desperate.  
"No, no...I can't see you." The fair head swung round, "I can't see anything. Oh my God! Hannibal, I can't see! What, what happened? Have I been in an accident? What the hell has happened to me? Why don't you speak to me?"  
He waved his arms trying to find something solid to grasp, his voice rising in pure panic, and Hannibal's arms reached out, enclosing his lover's trembling form in a fierce embrace.   
"Shh...Tem, I'm here, kid, try not to panic, it could be just shock, because of this afternoon, it could go as quickly as it came."  
"This afternoon? What, just because I went shopping alone? Hardly seems likely." Peck's tone was edgy, his hands twisted firmly in the fabric of Smith's denim shirt.   
"You don't remember being in an accident, or anything like that. Some sort of blow to your head?" Smith was grasping at straws.  
Peck's forehead creased into a frown, "No, everything seemed to be fine...it was a nice day."  
"Do you remember what happened - at the restaurant?" Smith wanted to know exactly what Face did remember.  
"At Mario's?" Peck tensed. "Nothing!” He answered too quickly.  
“Try and remember Face. Who did you see at Mario’s?”  
The blond head shook in denial. “Nobody...”  
Smith stroked the shining thatch soothingly, not saying a word. Hoping that his Lieutenant would be able to tell him what he remembered.  
“I can’t remember seeing anyone Hannibal...what happened?” Peck’s voice was a bare whisper.,  
Smith sighed heavily, “I don’t know Tem.” He paused, then voiced his suspicions. "You didn’t see Maddox or any of his gang?”  
Peck struggled to sit up, pushing angrily against Smith's broad chest. "No! How could I? He’s in prison, he can’t be out.” Peck was very close to tears of frustration and hysteria.  
Hannibal refused to let him go, merely allowing the smaller man to sit up straighter beside him.  
"I’m afraid he can, Tem, he made bail. There was a message on the answer phone from Maloney...he's just been informed."  
"The good old police, what good are they? They can’t even keep mobsters in jail, always ready to defend the guilty and harass the innocent," Peck sneered, rubbing uselessly at his eyes again.  
Hannibal gently restrained the hand. "Sometimes," he replied quietly, not knowing what else to do. Peck was agitated, as was to be expected, but given the circumstances, was remarkably calm, too calm, Hannibal realised.   
Some instinct told him to keep Peck talking, Maggie would be here soon and would know what action to take. Being on the Most Wanted list made it practically impossible to take Face to a hospital. "Maloney is okay, though." He went on. "You know that..."  
"I don't know. I don't know anything at the moment...just one thing is certain. I can't see, I'm blinder than a bat, at least they have radar to see where they're going."   
There wasn't a trace of humour in that remark and Smith was helpless against the harsh reality that his lover and friend, was blind and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.  
"I'm sorry, Tem. I'm so sorry my love, I'd do anything, give anything if this hadn't happened to you." Smith's voice was hoarse with anguish.  
The helpless tenderness got through Peck's growing sense of isolation and his panic began to fade a little. He turned his head, bumping into Smith's chin as he did so.   
"Ooops, sorry." He raised a hand, tracing the line of Hannibal's mouth, finding the lips trembling with emotion. "I know you would, lover. That's one thing I'm always certain of. I wish it hadn't happened either." He paused, then asked, "what're we going to do, Hannibal?"  
Smith closed his eyes, stroking the long fair hair in a soothing rhythm, he had no answer to that question.  
Face seemed to understand, and lifted his mouth to touch Hannibal's lips with his own.  
As Hannibal's mouth closed gently over his, Peck relaxed utterly giving himself up to the loving care of his soul-mate, whatever happened they were together.  
They stayed locked in each other's arms for a long time, then something else occurred to Face. "Was Maddox really at Mario's?" he asked anxiously.  
Smith shook his head, then realised with a shock that Face wouldn't be able to see it. He swallowed hard before saying quietly.   
"I didn’t actually see him, he could’ve been, he is on the streets. Apparently he was let out on bail ...the bloody incompetent idiots." His tone was savage as he thought of the faceless, senseless, legal system which could turn a monster loose on the streets.   
Peck was quiet for a long moment, not wanting to think about his sight, or lack of it. Maybe Hannibal was right, and the blindness would wear off, but in any case there wasn't anything to do at present. His Colonel would think of something - he always had an answer for any trouble they'd got themselves into over the years. This was different of course and might not be solvable in the usual way.   
He forced himself to think over the day's events. He could remember being at the Mall ...something nasty was waiting for him on the fringes of his memory. Something to do with ...with... GOOFY!! Why was he scared of a cartoon dog? No, not the dog, a man. Resisting the feeling of panic, he tried to remember. It came back to him, like cold water running down his spine. Looking at t-shirts, two men walking past the window...he thought he'd recognised them...had he?   
His memory was clear on how he’d gone to Andre's; the new outfit he'd ordered; remembered flirting mildly with the three British girls and walking in the sunlight to Mario's. Yes, all that had been very pleasant. He'd sat at their favourite table, waiting for Hannibal ...then he frowned. Someone had stood beside his table - not the waiter - someone he didn't want to think about or remember:   
Oh no...no...   
He struggled against Hannibal's gentle embrace, trying to get up and run.   
"Oh God help me...was it Maddox?" He twisted in Hannibal's arms, "is that why he's out? Waiting for me...him and... and Peterson... oh-my-God..." The last words were screamed out and Hannibal felt himself cringe at the sheer terror in them.  
With a surprising show of strength, Peck twisted free and got to his feet. He turned round, trying to find an avenue of escape in his darkness and tripped over the coffee table, sending magazines and crystal ashtrays tumbling to the carpet. He fell awkwardly, hitting his head on the telephone stand, sending it crashing to the floor.  
Smith jumped to his feet, startled by the sudden violent change of mood and bent over his recumbent lover, trying to see what damage Face may have done to himself.  
Peck was lying on his front, hands clutching the overturned stand his blond hair flowing like a golden river over the aquamarine carpet, sobbing hysterically.  
Kneeling beside his fallen lover, Smith gathered him into his arms, relieved in one respect that the unnatural calm had broken, but suffering empathetically with his lover's distress.  
He rocked the slender figure in his arms, covering the tear-wet face with kisses, murmuring words of comfort and compassion against the silky disorder of the fair hair, wishing the strength of his arms and love could shield this most precious person against every ill that had ever befallen him.  
They knelt there for what seemed a long time with Face now clinging to Hannibal's shoulders, his head tucked under the bigger man's chin, as he let go the storm of emotion that had been building up all afternoon.  
The ringing of the doorbell came faintly to Smith's ears and he swore to himself, then remembering that Maggie was supposed to call round, wondered how he could get up to open the door, without letting go of Face. Getting a firmer grip around Face's back, Hannibal lifted him to his feet and half-carried him to the couch, Peck gulping for air as he tried to stop the tears from flowing. As he tried to step away, however, Face grabbed at his arms again, shaking his head mutely.  
Smith glanced at the door, then pulled Face to his feet again and walked them both over to the door, where he flipped the lock and stepped back, allowing the attractive woman standing in the corridor, to enter.  
Doctor Sullivan's cheerful, "Hello.." trailed off as she saw the two men, her expression changing to one of concern. She stepped forward, closing the door behind her and laid a hand on Face's arm. He tensed and shrank back against Smith's side, not knowing who had touched him.  
"It's Maggie Sullivan, Face," Hannibal said, as he tightened his grip around his lover's waist.  
Face didn't relax, seemed even more tense, if that was possible.   
He lifted his head and stared straight in front, making no attempt to acknowledge her presence.  
Smith indicated the lounge with a flick of his eyes and the doctor moved forward, depositing her bag on the armchair. She saw at once the upturned telephone stand and coffee table and bent to straighten them both, replacing the phone and the contents of the table.  
Smith had turned around and was walking slowly towards her, Face still held firmly in his arms. His partner's tears had stopped but the stubborn set to his sensual lips boded trouble.   
Oh, hell, thought Maggie, this is not going to be easy.  
Never one to shirk a challenge, she smiled and said aloud. "Hello, Templeton, nice to see you again."  
Smith groaned inwardly, she wasn't to know, but that was the last word she should have used.   
Peck stiffened and his head snapped round to glare in her direction. "’fraid I can't say the same thing, Doc," his voice was hard.  
"I beg your pardon." Maggie was astonished. She and Peck had had their differences of opinion, but he'd never been deliberately rude before.  
Smith hastily intervened before the burgeoning row blew up in their faces.   
"I'm afraid there's something else, Maggie. Tem can't see. He's blind." He squeezed Peck's shoulder wanting to give some comfort, and felt Peck's desperate grip on his supporting arm, the tremors shaking his slender body.   
"Blind?" Maggie was shocked anew.   
She stepped forward, looking directly into the now dry, green eyes; they stared back at her, sightless, desperate, but still challenging. She moved her fingers in front of Peck's face, but he didn't flinch or react and Maggie glanced at Smith.   
"Oh my dear...I'm so sorry." She wasn't sure which man she was addressing, feeling sorry for them both.  
"Come and sit down, let me take a look," she said softly, laying her hand lightly on Tem's free arm.  
He flinched then steadied himself, knowing in his heart that no-one in this apartment would hurt him, not physically anyway.  
"That's okay Doctor, I'm sure it's only temporary," he said, forced cheerfulness apparent in his tone, but still hanging on, literally, to Hannibal, borrowing his Colonel's physical strength and emotional stability.  
"It won't hurt to make sure, though, will it?" she insisted.  
Peck ignored her words, turning slightly towards Smith. "I think I'll go and lie down for a little while, I'm sure you and the Doc have a lot to talk about, don't let me ruin your social visit." Peck paused, head on one side, "It was just a social call, I assume?"  
Maggie glanced helplessly at Smith, who rolled his eyes ceiling-wards.   
"Come and sit down, Tem," urged Hannibal quietly, starting to lead his lover towards the couch. "You're still in shock..."  
"If it's all the same to you, Colonel, I'll go and rest on my bed. I'm not really up to company." He wasn’t lying, he felt sick and dizzy. Turning slightly to where he thought Maggie was standing. "You will excuse me, won't you, Doc?"  
Smith was tense and very worried and decided that the line had to be drawn here and now.   
When Peck really got into his persuasive, scamming, mode, they wouldn't be able to handle him at all. When he wanted, Face could talk them into believing the moon was made of blue cheese, or that he was perfectly well and didn't need any help.  
This was far too important for games, it wasn't as if it were some fairly minor injury, or passing mood. Face's skin was cold and he was still shaking after his initial outburst and Hannibal knew his lover needed help, professional help and he needed it right now.  
He resisted the pull of Peck's arm and steered him to the sofa, making him sit down with strong hands on his shoulders.   
"She might excuse you, Lieutenant, but I won't. You are going to sit there, be still and be quiet, until the Doctor here examines you." His voice was tense and he kept his hands on the younger man's shoulders as Face tried to get up.   
"No. I don't want her to examine me, I want...I want..." Face's protests were becoming incoherent.   
What he really wanted was for this to be the bad dream he'd thought it was ...to wake up next to Hannibal's solid form, feel his partner's strong arms holding him, safe and secure. Now, as that seemed impossible, he wanted Maggie to leave so that he could scream and shout as loud as he liked, to vent his fear and fury against the injustice of this thing that was happening to him, happening to them both. Tem knew that Smith had chosen a long and painful road to get him to this point in time, his Colonel had been reckless of his own well-being in his efforts to help his Lieutenant recover from the ordeal that had been painful to his body and had weakened his self respect and confidence. Through it all, Hannibal had been there, pushing that little bit harder when Face wanted to give up, been as strong as a rock against his moods, and had attended to his emotional and bodily needs with tenderness and love. This was going to be as hard on Hannibal as it was on him, and it was this realisation that stopped the stammering protests, even as his Colonel leaned over him.  
Smith laid a finger across Peck's mouth, as the lips opened to protest. "I said, quiet, Templeton." His tone turned steely. "I mean it, Lieutenant. This is far too serious to take chances with."   
"But, Maggie isn't an eye specialist. How can she help?" Face wasn't quite ready to give up yet. "No offence," he added, remembering just in time how much help she'd given the Team as a whole, over the years they'd known her. The doctor had been a good friend to them all and Face felt ashamed of his words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He was, however, feeling much too scared to be polite and couldn't afford the energy to be tactful.  
Luckily, Doctor Sullivan understood the Lieutenant very well and could sympathise. On the personal level, if she had Hannibal, she wouldn't want any potential rivals getting too close either. She was well aware of Peck's ambivalent feelings towards her. On one hand, he liked her as a woman, but knew that Hannibal also liked her and that Maggie was more than half in love with the silver-haired Colonel. It didn't make for an easy relationship, for either of them. Added to that, she knew that he must be terrified, suddenly finding out that he couldn't see from one moment to the next was enough to scare the bravest of men. Having seen all the Team in action at one time or another, she had no doubt of Peck's courage.   
"None taken, Face," she said, "I understand what you mean, but if I can just examine you, see if there isn't something I can do right now, I'll be better able to advise you and the Colonel what to do."   
Peck still wasn't happy, but even as he opened his mouth again, Smith leaned down and taking his face between his palms, kissed him gently on the lips.  
"Please, Tem...just shut up and be good."  
Face was so surprised, he sat back. That was something Smith had never done before, kissed him in front of Maggie. The warm touch of his lover's lips and the total commitment it indicated, went a long way in making Peck feel more at ease, a little less alone and scared.  
His whole face lit in a smile directed up at Smith whose hands were still cupping his head. "I'll be very good, I promise," he whispered softly, too low for Maggie to hear.   
Even in the midst of all the recent trauma and his own present anxiety, the words sent a jolt of excitement through Hannibal's whole body and gave him hope.  
"That's mah boy," he replied softly, then kissed the top of the blond head, slowly drawing his hands down Face's jaw-line.  
Stepping back he looked at Maggie, "Okay, Doc, go ahead."  
The doctor had watched with wry admiration, as the Colonel turned a volatile situation around. She suffered a pang of regret for herself and what might have been, but also felt a tinge of awe at the depth of total commitment these two had for each other. She could only wonder at the past history they shared for Peck to have such trust in his friend and lover. It really was a unique relationship.  
"Okay," she said keeping her voice steady, "let's see if there's any outside damage." She came over to stand beside the couch and spoke directly to her reluctant patient. "I'm going to examine your skull, Templeton... okay?"   
The fair head nodded, "Go ahead, Doctor."   
Maggie's skilful hands went to work, threading through the silky hair, seeking any sign of inner or outward bruising. She immediately found the reddening bump on his left temple and Face winced.  
"Sorry," she said immediately. "When did you get that?"  
"I fell over the coffee table," said Tem, mortified at having to admit it. At least she hadn't been there when he'd panicked, only Hannibal, and his Colonel would never tell.  
"Yeah," added Smith, "that's just been done, he hit his head on the telephone stand."  
"Oh, I see..." Maggie probed a little further, but could find no more evidence of recent injury. “That doesn't seem too serious," she murmured, eyes intent on her work. "Will you take your shirt off, I'll check your blood pressure, etc."  
Face's mouth set in a stubborn line, but as Hannibal cleared his throat loudly, shrugged and started to unbutton his shirt. He fumbled with the first button, his fingers trembling, then steadied them with an effort, hoping the doctor wouldn't see how shaky he was. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate, or subdue the panic churning away at the edges of his consciousness. He wanted to scream and kick against the injustice of what had happened. It was taking most of his self-control to stop himself yelling aloud his frustration and fear, but he would be damned if he'd do that in front of Maggie.  
He finally yanked at the silk material, getting it caught on his shoulder and swore under his breath.  
Hannibal's eyes had never left the seated form of his lover, he could feel Tem's distress and what trying to keep calm was costing him. Smith didn't feel very calm himself; for one of the few times in his life, he knew he couldn't cure his beloved of this particular ailment.   
When he saw the angry jerk as Face fought to free himself from his obstinate clothes, he was there in an instant, tugging the shirt from Face's shoulders. The sight of that satin-smooth skin always made Hannibal ache to touch it, and he couldn't resist sliding his palm over the rounded curve of Peck's tanned shoulder and stroked down his arm.  
Peck felt the love and support in that touch and felt the horror of his situation recede, just a little and thought he might even be able to endure this examination and get it over with. Then he could let go.  
Maggie came towards the two men on the couch, settling her stethoscope into her ears, but her eyes were fixed on Smith's large, powerful hands as they moved so delicately over Peck's firm-muscled arm. What would it be like to have them touch her like that? Giving herself a mental shake, she bent down to resume her examination.  
Twenty minutes later, Maggie packed her instruments away, a frown marring the smooth skin of her forehead. Pushing back her unruly dark curls she turned to where Smith was helping Face with his shirt.  
Finishing his self-imposed task, he turned to the doctor. "Well?"  
Maggie shrugged. "I can't find any evidence of outside injury, not enough to cause blindness, anyhow. That bump on the head may give him a headache, but there’s no sign of any concussion." She bit her lip, frowning. "The older injuries..." she glanced at Peck but he didn't seem to be listening, although Smith knew better. There wasn't much that would escape Face, even handicapped as he was at present. "They're clearing up nicely. I can't see...er... understand, how this could have occurred."  
The Doctor knew that the examination had left Peck emotionally exhausted, his hands were shaking and his fair skin was clammy to her touch. He kept his head down, but she could see that he was near to tears and probably on the verge of hysteria, she was surprised it hadn't happened earlier.   
She glanced at Smith and saw the weariness and anxiety in his face too; he was suffering along with his Lieutenant, they both needed a rest. Moving over to her medical bag, she sorted out a small bottle and hypodermic needle and brought them over to the couch.  
"Face, Face... can you hear me?"   
"I'm not deaf as well," snapped Peck.  
"No, of course not, I'm sorry." Maggie took a firm hold on her patience and her temper. "I want you to get some sleep, you're very tense, so I'm going to give you a sedative...it will help."  
"What's this, a miracle cure for sight loss? Ain't medicine grand?" Peck sneered, tone bitterly sarcastic.  
"Is it okay... to give you the sedative?" she persisted.  
Peck sat back on the couch, closing his burning eyes. "Hannibal, what'd you think?"  
Hannibal knew Face hated needles and frowned. He'd picked up his abandoned cigar and was chewing on it, as he watched the Doctor's every move, trying not to flinch when Face did, worried as his Lieutenant's complexion became paler and paler. He wanted to wipe the sweat off that broad brow and kiss away the distress he could see - and feel - his lover was experiencing. "You think its for the best, Doc?" he asked anxiously.  
Maggie nodded. "Yes, I do, he's still shocked and needs to calm down. His pulse is racing and the best thing for him at the moment is to rest... and I mean sleep."  
Hannibal nodded. "Okay." He threw the almost shredded cigar into the nearest ashtray and turned to sit by his partner on the couch. "It'll be okay, Face, you get some sleep now...and..."  
"And what, I'll be able to see in the morning?" queried Peck wearily.  
Stranger things have happened, but..." Smith brushed a strand of silky hair from Peck's brow, "don't hold me to that."  
"Don't worry, I won't.” Peck held out his hand and felt it taken in Smith's strong grip. "Go ahead, Doc, do your worst, or do I mean, best.?."   
Maggie bent over him and swabbed a place on Peck's upper arm where the unbuttoned shirt had fallen aside and with expert ease, quickly administered the sedative.   
"There you go, Face, all done." She wiped the needle mark and moved away to replace the bottle and needle in her medicine bag.  
Hannibal pulled the shirt back onto Face's shoulder, then smoothed the disheveled hair off his forehead, feeling the warmth returning to his skin. Peck's eyes were half closed as he waited for the sedative to take effect, but opened them as Hannibal kissed his cheek. A faint smile lit the dark-lashed eyes for a second, and he lifted a hand to Hannibal's lips, touching them gently.  
"Are you smiling?" he asked softly and felt the lips quiver with emotion, then quirk upward into one of Hannibal's gorgeous grins.  
"That's nice," murmured Face, "I can see that...in here." He tapped his forehead, then his heart.   
Smith had thought his heart would break at the low-voiced question, but when he saw Face touch his brow and then his heart, he felt the tears spring into his eyes.  
He bent and kissed the soft mouth of his exhausted Lieutenant and felt Tem return the pressure. "You'll always be in my head and my heart, Templeton. I love you so much." His voice quivered with the effort of not breaking down in front of his lover, or the Doctor.  
Maggie watched for a second, she'd hadn't heard the whispered words, but the tenderness of the kiss and the way Peck touched Hannibal made her want to weep and wish she wasn't here.  
She turned towards the kitchen area, "Mind if I make some coffee, it's been quite a day." She bit her lip in annoyance and glanced quickly at Face. Whatever kind of day she'd had, it was nothing to the one he'd experienced. "Sorry, Face..." she began, but Peck raised a heavy hand.  
"Don't worry about it, Doc, I know what you mean." His voice was faint and he yawned sleepily.  
Smith started to get up off the couch, but Peck held on to his arm, even falling asleep he wanted to hold on to his Colonel.  
Hannibal was quick to reassure him. "It's okay, Tem, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to help you to bed, you'll rest better there. Okay?"  
"'Kaayyy..." muttered Peck.  
The older man pulled the younger one to his feet and put an arm around his waist.  
Half expecting the usual independent claim that he could manage alone, it was both a welcome surprise and also a source of worry to the Colonel, when Peck made no attempt to let go his arm and even laid his head on Smith's shoulder as the larger man half carried him to their room.  
Crossing to the bed, Hannibal sat Face down on the edge and started to undress him.   
Face made a feeble attempt to help, then sighed wearily and let Hannibal manhandle him out of his clothes.  
With the sureness and ease of long practice, Hannibal slid the loose shirt from Peck's shoulders, then swiftly divested the slim form of shoes, socks and belt. Pushing gently he laid Face back on the bed and tugged at the form-fitting pants. As he pulled them over the narrow hips and down the long, tanned legs, he couldn’t help remembering how wonderfully strong those same legs felt when they were wrapped around his waist, as they made love.  
Shaking his head in reproof at his thoughts, Smith tossed the pants in the general direction of a chair and bent over Peck again.   
The younger man was lying on his back, wearing only his white silk shorts, arms spread wide, head on one side, his long hair a golden tangle against the dark blue sheet.   
Deciding to leave the shorts on, Hannibal pulled back the covers and lifted his Lieutenant into the middle of the bed, smiling tenderly as Face sighed in relief as he felt the soft firmness of the mattress under his weary limbs.   
Sitting beside him on the wide bed, Smith smoothed back the tumbled hair; noticing the growing bump where Face had hit the phone stand, he bent down and kissed the reddish bruise tenderly.  
"Ummm, that's nice," murmured Face, already half asleep, feeling safe and comfortable in what seemed a long time.  
"Nice for me, too," said Smith, then kissed him gently on the mouth, "sweet dreams, Tem my love, my only love."   
Peck smiled contentedly. He loved it when his macho Colonel said romantic things: "Love you, too..." he murmured, raising his hand to touch Smith's cheek.  
"Good," said Smith, "now go to sleep. I'll bring you some coffee if...." then he realised that he was talking to himself, Peck's eyes were closed and his breathing had evened out.  
"...then again, maybe I won't." Hannibal smiled gently and pulled the quilt up over his sleeping lover, before rising and quietly leaving the room.  
When he went out into the lounge, Maggie had already put the coffee on to percolate and was standing by the window, looking out over the city.  
"How is he?" she asked quietly, without looking round.   
Smith shrugged. "As usual, pretending to be better than he is, but he seems a bit calmer now. He's asleep."  
Maggie nodded. "Better check him every half hour or so, just in case. I couldn't find any sign of a concussion, but..." she spread her hands.   
Smith went to get a couple of coffee mugs and poured the steaming liquid into them, bringing one across to Maggie, They stood side by side, sipping their drinks for a moment or two, before Smith asked: "Did you find anything at all, Maggie... anything physical I mean?"  
The doctor shook her head. "I couldn't find any indication of physical trauma at all." She paused, "Oh yes, I can find signs of stress, he's still got a few bruises, but everything seems to be healing quite well. There's no sign of detached retina, or any other eye damage." She paused. "But..."  
Smith sighed. "He's blind."  
"Yes," she murmured. She walked over to the couch and sat down.  
Hannibal followed her. "Okay, Doc, why don't you spit it out..." he said tensely.  
Maggie sipped her coffee, trying to think of a way of putting her thoughts into words without alarming him too much. He had enough to worry about at the moment.   
"I think he needs to have a complete check- up, x-rays, scans...that sort of thing."  
"Scans?" Smith felt suddenly cold. "You mean a brain scan?"  
Maggie nodded. "Now it's only a precaution, Hannibal. We have to make certain that there isn't a physical reason, it's only practical."  
"But...but..." Smith felt his brain somersault with dread and he felt sick, "...he hasn't shown any symptoms of that kind of illness, didn't you x-ray him when he was first hurt?"   
"Yes, of course I did, but my little clinic doesn’t have the kind of sophisticated equipment a bigger hospital has." She paused. "Now I'm not saying I think it's likely, or anything like that. I just think we have to investigate any and every, possibility."  
She glanced at Hannibal, wishing she could take away the trouble he was carrying: she wanted to comfort this man, wanted to hold him and feel his strong arms around her, but knew that he wouldn't accept it - not now, and not here.  
Smith leaned forward and picked up a cigar from the box on the coffee table, thinking over what she'd said. "I see what you mean," he murmured, then grimaced. "Have you noticed that whenever you're trying not to mention anything to do with loss of sight, how many times you put your foot in your mouth?"  
"Oh, yes," said Maggie, knowing she'd done the same thing here in this apartment.  
“So what do we do about it?" he asked cutting right to the point.  
"Well, I know this specialist..." she began.  
"Whoa..." said Hannibal, "what kind of specialist? 'Cos, if you remember, we can't just walk in and ask for an appointment."  
"Well of course I remember, how the hell could I forget..." Maggie stopped, running a hand through her hair, getting a grip on her temper. "I'll fix it up, I can call in a couple of favours."  
"When?" asked Hannibal, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.  
"I'll phone my colleague tonight, maybe we can see him first thing in the morning," she replied.  
Smith thought about it for another few minutes, lighting the cigar he'd picked up. "Okay, Doc, go ahead and try." He puffed out a cloud of smoke. "The sooner we know what we're up against, the better."  
"Right, Colonel. Will do." She looked at him critically. Much as she wanted to stay and just be with him for a while, she knew he must be physically and emotionally exhausted. He'd shown more of his innermost feelings in the past half hour than she'd ever seen before. It was a measure of how worried he was about his partner.   
"You look beat," she said at last. "Why don't you go and get some sleep while Face is asleep ...you've had a shock too. You need to rest, if you're going to be of any help to him."  
She knew it was blackmail, using Peck as a bribe, but he really did look exhausted.  
He grinned faintly around his cigar. "That your medical advice, Doc?"  
"Yes and No." She leaned forward and brushed some silver strands of hair from his forehead. "As a good friend, who cares for you - both of you."  
Smith was silent for a second, looking directly into her warm brown eyes. "Thank you, Maggie. It means a great deal to me, that you're here. I don't like maybe getting you into any trouble, but..."  
Maggie leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Just hush up, Colonel... what are friends for if they can't help out, now and then?"  
Smith caught her hand in his and kissed her back just as lightly, "And you've certainly done that since we met up." He grinned. "Remember Bad Rock? I didn't like locking you in that closet."  
Even though she suspected he was trying to change the subject, she responded to his teasing, in an over-the-top Southern drawl.  
"Why Colonel, Sur...you mean you’all were tempted by mah charms?" she blushed as the blue eyes sparkled at her, then added in her normal accent, "even after I set the sheriff on you?"  
"Even before you set the sheriff on me," he grinned, as he remembered the quick-fire repartee the Doctor and he had exchanged. They’d struck sparks from each other the very first moment he and Face had carried B.A. into her home. That thought led to others, of himself and Face playing Gin Rummy between the bars of their separate jail cells. He sobered up. "Maggie, you know how it is with Face and me, I've loved him for a very long time, but there didn't seem to be any future for us, always on the run.” He paused, then added. “yet they've been some of the happiest days of my life, even before I knew he loved me in the same way."  
Maggie sat back, stroking the side of his cheek, disappointed that the mood was broken, but not really surprised. She knew that John Hannibal Smith was a very honourable man; she wouldn't have it any other way.   
"Don't worry Hannibal, I know how it is. I can't help feeling sorry that you're involved with someone else, but I also know, damn it, that you and Face are very much in love." She smiled wistfully. "That's the kind you can't, shouldn't even try, to break up."  
"Maggie..."  
"Hush now, or I'll be crying all over your shirt front." She sat up, and brushed back her hair, reminding Hannibal vividly of the way Face finger combed his hair.   
"Can I use your phone? Then you should really get some sleep."  
"Help yourself," Smith waved a tired arm.   
He rested his head on the back of the sofa as she went over to the phone and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her voice as she talked to someone called Stephen.  
He must have dropped off for a few minutes, because he started awake at the sound of the receiver being returned to the cradle to find Maggie standing looking down at him, her eyes soft with love.   
Hannibal felt a twinge of guilt. He shouldn't really have called her, knowing as he did the strong feelings she had for him, but she was one of the few people he trusted completely - and damn-it-all - he really liked the woman, a lot. His liking and respect for the lady doctor, plus the fact that Face's well-being, maybe even his sanity, could depend on her expertise, or on the advice she could give, hadn't really left him many options. Where his lover was concerned, Smith would chance any danger, physical or emotional, to help his Lieutenant.  
He consoled himself with the thought that at least the attractive Doctor knew the score, he had never promised her any kind of relationship, except the true one of friendship; he admired her all the more for facing that and not letting it make any difference in her attitude, or treatment of his fair-haired lover.  
He blinked up at her, struggling to sit up from his slumped position. "What?"  
She bent down and shushed him with a finger across his lips. "Everything is fixed. We can go and see Stephen at 7.30 tomorrow morning. He'll be waiting for us."  
"Stephen who?" asked Hannibal, trying to take in the words. If only he wasn't so bloody tired.  
"Stephen Pierce, my friendly brain specialist." Maggie smiled.  
"You can, of course, trust this guy?" It was more of a statement than a question.  
Doctor Sullivan sighed. "Hannibal, my dear, sweet, pain-in-the-butt - you're not the only one who can judge people. Stephen is an old and very dear friend from the 'Nam, he won't give us away."  
"Okay, okay, Doc. I'm sorry, it get’s to be a habit. I don't like it, but we have to be careful." He seemed genuinely upset and Maggie relented.  
"It's okay, Hannibal, I understand. I wish that it could be different for you and the others, but maybe one day you'll get the right sort of justice - not the kind you've had over the years."  
"Thanks, Maggie. I appreciate all you've done and are still doing for us." He squeezed her hand, then let it go, before standing up.  
"Do you want to stay here the night?" he asked, moving his head from side to side to try and release the tension.  
Maggie hesitated, there was nothing she'd like better than to spend the night with the handsome, blue-eyed Colonel, but knew she would only be tormenting herself. Besides, she did have to go home, she would have to arrange for a locum for her morning surgery and it would be easier to do that from her own apartment.  
She shook her head rather regretfully. "No thanks, better not. I've got to arrange for Walt to take over for me tomorrow morning."   
Smith raised an eyebrow, "Walt? As in Disney," he didn't know the name.  
"No," Maggie half-smiled. "Walter David Sherburn. He's someone I'm thinking of taking into the partnership," she explained. "He's a good doctor and my list of patients is growing."  
"Oh, I see..." he stopped short, grimaced, and they both shared a rueful look. "He a good friend too?" he asked, then was annoyed with himself for asking, but he did care about the Doctor. "Sorry, it's none of my business," he apologised.   
Maggie felt uncomfortable with her own feelings about Walt, which were becoming confused between colleague and something more, but she felt a warm glow that Hannibal obviously cared, even if it was nothing more than friendship.  
"That's okay, Hannibal, when I know, I'll let you know," she grinned, then turned to look for her jacket which she'd discarded on entering the apartment.  
"That's a deal, Doc," he winked.  
"Yes, well, I'd better go, I suppose." Maggie went to pick up her bag. "I'll just go and check on Face before I leave," she said, heading for the bedroom.  
Smith followed her slowly, trying to stifle a yawn. When he entered his bedroom, Maggie was just tucking Face's bare arm back under the quilt.  
"He seems to be okay, Hannibal," she said in a low voice. "He's a bit restless, maybe the sedative wasn't strong enough."  
"Maybe," Smith looked over to the bed. "I'll watch him, he really did get one helluva shock today."  
The Doctor nodded, "I can imagine. I remember how he was after those thugs had..." she shook her head, not wanting to remember, or rouse any hurtful memories for Smith either.  
She walked towards the bedroom door. "Anyway, I'll get off home now. I'll pick you up at about 7 a.m."  
"There's no need for that," said Hannibal following her out to the lounge. "We'll call for you."  
The Doctor hesitated, weighing up the situation. "It might even be better if you were to meet me at Stephen's clinic," she mused out loud. "Just in case I get an emergency... will that be okay with you?"  
"That'll be fine, Maggie. What's the address?"  
After writing the address and instructions how to get there down on the telephone pad, Smith tucked the slip of paper into his pocket, then walked the doctor to the door.  
"Thanks again, Maggie, for all your help. I really do appreciate it, so does Tem."  
She held his hand and leaned forward, kissing him briefly on the cheek. "I'm sorry about the circumstances, Hannibal, but it's always a pleasure to see you." She paused, then squeezed his hand. "Try not to worry, Colonel, we'll do our very best to help Face."  
Smith smiled, "I know, Doc.” He opened the door and checked outside, before allowing her to exit. Holding her elbow, he walked her to the elevator and waited for the car to arrive.  
"I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight." The Doctor waved her free hand.  
"'Night, Maggie..." Smith watched the elevator doors close and the green light descend, before returning to the apartment.  
Closing and locking the door, he leaned his head against the panels for a second, trying to relax the tension that had placed a vertical groove of anxiety between his dark eyebrows.   
Although it was early to be thinking of retiring for the night, he was bushed, so after checking that the apartment was secure, he went into the bathroom. It was while he was cleaning his teeth that he remembered that he hadn't yet told BA and Murdock what had happened, not that he'd had much chance until now. On the point of going back into the lounge to phone, he hesitated. Both his sergeant and captain would be very distressed to hear about Face's loss of vision, and he really couldn't deal with that, or the many questions they'd have right now. He'd wait until tomorrow, maybe after seeing the specialist he might have some better news for their friends.  
Ten minutes later he walked into the bedroom buttoning his pyjama jacket and climbed wearily into the bed beside Face. His sleeping lover was lying on his back, upthrown arms cradling his blond head which was tilted slightly towards Smith's side of the bed. Leaning over the younger man, Smith brushed the long strands of hair from Face's brow, admiring as usual the crescent of long, thick lashes that cast feathery shadows on his lover's lean cheeks. Bending his head, Hannibal kissed each closed eye, feeling the dark fringe flutter momentarily against his lips, as Face sighed, then turned his head into the crook of his left elbow. Not wanting to wake his very own Sleeping Beauty just yet, Smith settled himself close to the warm body and thankfully, closed his eyes.  
Smith had only been asleep about two hours when he was disturbed by restless mutterings in close proximity to his right ear and was awake in an instant, opening his eyes and sitting up in one movement.  
The room was lit by the clear, silver light of the full moon and as Smith leaned over the slender figure lying next to him, he saw that Face's eyes were closed. He’d started to twist around, his hands opening and closing into tight fists as he fought again the vicious men who had tortured and abused him. His lips were moving and Hannibal strained to hear the murmured words, his eyes growing cold as ice as he recognised the names and events Face was painfully reliving.  
"Get away from me you filthy swine...won't do that, will not." Peck twisted away. "Let go of me...what...what was that? Not a chance you evil minded pervert...get off me...get off..." He swung a wild fist around, almost connecting with his partner's head. Smith avoided the swinging arm and tried to take his lover into his arms, but Face wriggled away, still fighting the images in his nightmare.  
"You're nothing but filth...peddling filthy drugs to kids in school... Aw...aw...no...get away from me..." Face cried out in pain, panting and twisting, fighting his invisible enemies, sweat making his smooth skin even harder to grasp. "Ah don't... don't do that ...ahh...Nooo..."   
Face's desperate cry was loud enough to wake himself up, fighting the clinging sheet and Smith's hands, until he recognised the familiar voice trying to soothe him and slumped back onto the bed. It was only then that Hannibal was able to lift his lover and gather him tenderly into his arms. Pressing his soul-mate close to his chest, he surrounded the anguished, trembling body with warmth, compassion and love.  
"Shh...it's okay, Face, it's a nightmare, it's all over," he said softly into the nearest ear, wondering inwardly whether it would ever be all over, for either of them.  
Within hours, the chance meeting with whoever had been in the restaurant had brought on this relapse and erased all the progress Face had made in the last weeks. He was back to the disturbed nights and violent nightmares, reliving the outrage over and over again, with Smith unable to do anything except offer comfort and care.  
Face's arms were locked tightly around Hannibal's neck, as he sobbed his relief into his Colonel's soft cotton pyjama top. He was aware now of the strong arms rocking him safely, the familiar scent of his lover giving him a welcome release from the prison of his subconscious, and the demons that inhabited its dark corners.  
Gradually, Peck became calmer and his sobs mutated into soft hiccups of distress. Smith rubbed his bare back, whispering, "It's all right now, Tem. We'll beat this thing together. Whoever it is, Maddox, or some other slimeball, won't be able to hurt anyone again once we've finished with them." He rubbed his chin across the soft hair tickling his chest, "You hear me, Lieutenant? You're safe now, with me."  
"I...I kn..know..." Face hiccuped, clinging even tighter around Smith's neck, burrowing his face into the warmth of his lover's shoulder. "Sor...sorry, Han'bal...did... did I..I..wake you?"   
Although his voice was calmer, the grip around Smith's neck didn't loosen.  
"Yeah, kid," Smith patted him on the back, trying to dislodge the hiccups, "you sure did."  
"Is...is...it still dark?" asked Face.  
Smith's heart twisted with pain. Just for the moment, in the throes of trying to calm his younger lover, he'd forgotten that Face couldn't see whether it was day or night.  
"Yes, sweetheart," he murmured into the silken hair, "it's still dark."  
"Oh." Face said faintly. "Thought it might be time to get up."  
"Not yet, we've still got a few hours." Smith shifted his weight, getting a more comfortable hold on Face. "D'you think you can sleep a little more? Or would you rather sit here and let me cuddle you?" He realised that the hiccups had gone and Face was lying more quietly in his arms.  
Tired though he was, Face didn't want to sleep; being cuddled by Hannibal sounded much more palatable. He gave a faint smile: "Is that all you want to do?"  
Smith was silent a moment too long and Face lifted his head from the warm shoulder.  
"Hannibal?"  
"I'm here, love." He stroked Face's hair. "I'm just trying to think what'd I'd really like to do."   
Face shivered slightly, but didn't move away, or release his hold on Smith. "And?" he urged, not without a tinge of inner trepidation.  
"Well, first of all, I think I'd like to kiss you all over, starting at your eyebrows, making little detours," his fingers gently touched Face's mouth and nose, stroking down his throat: "then continue all the way down to your feet - that would take some time...because you are very kissable."  
"That sounds nice. What then?" asked Face.  
"Oh then...then I'm gonna bite your toes..."  
Face smothered a surprised giggle. "My toes?"  
"Yes, of course," Hannibal sounded surprised. "You have very biteable toes, did you know that?"  
"No, can't say the subject has ever come up," smiled Face, beginning to relax under his partner's gentle teasing.   
"Yes, well you have. The only things more biteable are your ears." Smith nuzzled the nearest one, making Face squirm.  
"Oh Hannibal, that tickles."  
"Only tickles? I must be losing my touch," replied Smith sadly.  
Face hugged him, lips coming up to touch Smith's. "No, my dear Colonel... that you'll never do," he said huskily.  
Hannibal was becoming aroused just by the touch of those tremulous lips and the way that Face clung to him, his firm, yet pliant body moulded to the heavier one of his partner. Smith had always managed to keep a tight check on his desire even before Face had been hurt, but was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his emotional distance, especially now that Face sounded - and acted - as though he might be willing to take that first step forward to where they'd been a couple of months ago. He had to be sure, however, had to be very sure.  
Face solved the problem, realising, with some surprise, that he too, was becoming aroused; an emotion he hadn't felt in what seemed an eternity. The teasing and banter had changed to real desire and he suddenly wanted Hannibal just as much as his older lover wanted him. The light kiss he was bestowing became more urgent and he kissed his partner harder, his lips parting in a soft sigh. "You gonna start all that kissing you promised to do?"  
"Don't tempt me, kid. You don't know how much I want you."   
Smith's voice was breathless with the strain of keeping his head above the seething maelstrom of his aroused emotions.  
Peck's hand slid slowly down into Smith's lap, fingers tracing the hard outline of Smith's manhood, pulsing beneath his thin cotton pants.  
"Oh no?" Peck's voice was light and teasing, but there was no mistaking the slow, deliberate caress of those expert fingers, which could make Smith's blood turn to liquid fire without half trying, and at this moment, Face was being deliberately provocative. "I think, maybe can guess."  
Smith bit his lip, unable to halt the responsive surge of his body to the welcome touch of his lover, it had been such a long time since he'd felt those supple fingers making him tremble with sheer delight. His hands tightened around the slender body which he felt was now too hot to handle.  
"Tem...please...don't do that. I don't think...I'm not quite in full control tonight."  
Peck's tongue slid over Hannibal's mouth, tracing the older man's quivering lips.   
"I thought my Colonel was always in control," he whispered.  
Smith fought his way out of the haze of lust and desire that was threatening to overwhelm him, and held Face's head between his palms.   
"Tem, are you sure you're ready for this? If not...stop now...'cos I'm not..."  
"Not what, Hannibal?" Tem's white teeth flashed in the moonlight. "Not up to the challenge?"   
Smith's cried desperately: "Tem, stop this, what are you trying to do to me?"  
Tem's delicious lips parted in an exaggerated sigh. "I thought that was obvious. I'm trying to seduce you."  
"Trying...seduce..." Hannibal realised he was stuttering.  
Face's hand came up and after a slight hesitation found Smith's mouth. "Shh...just listen to me for a moment." He left his hand on Smith's lips and leaning forward, rested his head against Smith's shoulder. "You might not have thought I've noticed, being a bit preoccupied with my own troubles... but I have noticed and understood and admired your patience, over these last weeks." He paused, one fingertip tracing Hannibal's jaw, "not to mention your self-control," his lips quirked in a fond grin, as Smith snorted softly.  
"I’ve understood your reluctance, Hannibal, loved your understanding and patience in not pressing me to make a decision about us, one way or the other." He paused again and Smith was silent, willing the younger man to continue. "And, believe it or not, some days I've longed for you to take me in your arms and make love to me; then I've got scared and the nightmare memories come to me in the day time and I've retreated again, thinking there'll be a better time."  
He shivered a little, then as Smith made a move to speak, he hushed him again. "No, don't stop me now, I might not ever get the courage to speak up again." He pressed his face harder into Smith's neck, then spoke in a slightly muffled voice. "What happened today, yesterday... whenever ...made me realise there might never be a proper time and we might never get another chance to be together, like this, in our own apartment, in our own bed." He paused again, then raised his face towards Smith's. "So, before we find out what tomorrow will bring, whether this blindness will go away, or not, I want us to be together like we were - before."   
Smith felt too choked to speak right away and Face started to tremble. "Hannibal...what's wrong? Don't...don't...you want me any more?" His voice was choked with disbelieving horror.  
Smith crushed the slender body against his own, mouth buried in the silky disorder of the blond mane. "Oh, Tem, my beloved...of course I want you. I've always wanted you... and not only because of the fantastic sex. I'd go mad if you weren't here beside me. I love you, Lieutenant, always have, always will." He rocked Face gently in his arms, feeling the younger man's heartbeat slow down as he began to relax. "There will be another time for us, Tem. I promise there will be, you don't have to prove anything to me -  
you never have."  
Face was quiet, feeling safe and secure held in Smith's strong arms. "I love you, lots and lots..." he said, a quiver in his voice. "I want to make love to you, you're mine, John Hannibal Smith - and no-one, not even Maggie, is going to take you away from me."  
Smith felt a wave of tenderness and compassion surge through him as he recognised in that unguarded mention of the attractive, dark-haired doctor, the depth of Tem's jealousy.  
"There's not a chance of anyone, in the whole world, taking me away from you, Templeton my love." Smith kissed his forehead. "Just can - not - be - done."  
"That's okay, then," Face couldn't keep the purring satisfaction and delight at this solemn declaration, out of his voice. He wriggled further down the bed, hands sliding down the muscular cotton-covered legs.  
"Can we proceed now, with the pleasurable part of this discussion. That's if you're not too tired," and he chuckled softly.  
Smith was nearly delirious with delight, but knew he should make one last attempt to halt what might be a mistake on Peck's part. He hadn't missed the tenseness in Face when he'd asked what Smith really wanted to do and Hannibal had deliberately lightened the moment with the nonsense about his toes. Now, suddenly, Peck was eager to be intimate, but Hannibal knew his partner was still fragile where sexual intimacy was concerned.  
"No, I'm not too tired, just anxious that you shouldn't overdo things, you've had a very stressful day. This is a big step for you, Tem, I don't want you to regret it in the morning."   
"Regret it?" Peck's tone was cool, and he stopped moving. "You sound just like one of those Agony Aunts. The question is, will you regret it in the morning?" He sounded just this side of aggressive.   
"Nope." Smith decided to test the strength of Face's resolve.  
He rolled the younger man over onto his back, hearing Peck's startled squawk. "Now where would you like me to start? On your toes, and work my way upward towards those luscious lips of yours?"   
"Er..." Peck was flustered at the abrupt turnabout and pressed his elbows into the mattress, trying to sit up, but the heavier weight of his lover held him down.  
"Hannibal...talk to me..." there was a trace of panic in Peck's voice and he struggled to free himself, then relaxed, as Smith replied immediately.  
"I'm here, Tem, just about to start on your eyebrows."  
Peck took in a shaky breath, annoyed with himself for his momentary panic and Smith for his knowledge of him and his feelings. Sometimes his commander knew him too well.   
His hand wandered up to touch Smith's mouth. "You're such a hotshot psychiatrist, Colonel. Okay, you win." He paused as Smith kissed his fingers. "You know me better than I do myself." He wriggled again and this time Smith let him sit up. "I was telling you the truth, though, I did, and do, want to make love with you, but..." he paused before stammering on, "is..is it okay if I make love to you...just at first...then..then... maybe?" His voice tailed off and he flushed in embarrassment, hoping that Hannibal would understand.   
Smith did understand, more than just the fear that was still uppermost in Peck's mind. He understood the wanting; the fear of not quite being able to do what he'd decided, and also of allowing anyone, even his lover, to have total control. He stroked the lean jaw line, cupping his partner's chin in one hand, as he studied the handsome face. The cold light of the moon had struck silver sparks into Peck's fair hair and drained the healthy colour from his skin, making him seem almost ethereal. A beautiful, frosty, sprite from the Snow Queen's Kingdom, but the warmth of the smile that was for Smith alone, soon dispelled the unreal image. Smith bent to kiss the sensual lips, feeling them open under his, welcoming in his greedy, demanding, tongue.  
"That answer your question, Lieutenant?" he asked breathlessly as he surfaced for air.  
Peck was breathless too, thrilled and warmed by that masterful kiss. "Sure does, Colonel." His hand slid down again to cover the burgeoning mound in Smith's pyjamas. It hadn't diminished, and at the younger man's touch, throbbed even more. "Let me start by taking care of your small problem here..."   
"Small problem? You cheeky young imp..."   
Then Hannibal became incoherent as Peck's fingers freed him from the restricting cloth of his pyjama pants and his long-delayed pleasure became a wondrous reality.   
"Oh-my-god," Hannibal cried out, arching to the steady rhythm of Face's manipulative fingers, his own hands clenched deeply into the thick blond thatch which flowed over him from chest to thighs, as Face kissed his way down the muscular form of his ecstatic Colonel. He made little, encouraging noises as he swirled a possessive tongue around each nipple standing proudly erect, then nibbled his way down Smith's breastbone and dipped into his navel. Almost out of his mind with arousal, Hannibal slid a hand down the slender back of his energetic lover, dipping under the waistband of the silk shorts Face still wore, to squeeze the firm flesh of his partner's buttocks.  
Face tensed, lifting his mouth from Hannibal's belly, but Hannibal understood; he wasn’t going to do anything that Face was reluctant to do and pressed his head back down. "Okay, Face my love,” he murmured, “I know, but don't stop..." then groaned as Face went back to his task with renewed vigour. Unable to hold onto the delicious sensations any longer, Hannibal climaxed in a torrent of hot, salty semen, crying out his love for this wonderful, beautiful creature, who by some wondrous chance, had chosen to love him.  
Long minutes later, his body, limp and satiated, Smith sprawled on his back, with the slim form of his Lieutenant held tightly in his arms, blond head cushioned on one heat-soaked shoulder.  
"Did you like that?" whispered Face, a trifle amazed at the older man's response and his own passion.   
"Mmmmmm..." was all Smith could utter.  
Peck grinned in spite of himself. "Is that a yes, or a no?"  
"Mmmmmm MMMMMMMMM..."  
"That good, eh?" Peck chuckled; he was smacked gently on his silk-clad bottom in retaliation, then found his mouth taken in a passionate kiss, which reflected his lover's mood.  
He surfaced for air and pushing his hair off his glowing pink cheeks, sat up a little, resting his elbows on Hannibal's chest.  
"You ready for my turn now?" he asked, running his tongue over his kiss-moist lips, tasting the unique flavour that was Hannibal.  
Hannibal stared at the handsome features, mesmerised by that tongue. "Your...your turn?" he asked, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing.   
"Yeah, my turn." Peck cocked his head to one side. "You didn't really think that's all, did you, my big, strong, sexy, Colonel?"  
Smith was silent for a second, marvelling at the quicksilver mood of this most precious man, but more than willing to take part, if that was what Face wanted.  
"Wal..." he drawled, "I was hoping there would be more...but didn't want to push."  
"Oh, there's more, Hannibal...much, much more." Peck's tone was husky. He eased forward, feeling for Smith's mouth, then kissed him thoroughly, so thoroughly that Hannibal's blood started to sing again. "And you won't need to push...I'll be doing that."  
The seductive, wanton tone in Tem’s voice was turning Hannibal on faster than he could keep track of.  
"Ah Tem, honey...love you...but..."  
"No buts, Hannibal, just let me love you."  
Hannibal lifted his hand and touched Tem's mouth, drawing his finger down the smooth column of his throat and onto his chest. "Whatever you want, Face...whatever you want...I want it too."  
His hand spread out to cover his partner's breast, rubbing one small pink nipple until it grew harder under his circling thumb.  
"Oh...that's very nice," murmured Face, "you can do that some more....here..." and he took his partner's caressing hand and moved it down to his own groin.  
Smith's hand trembled on the silk-covered crotch, wondering exactly what Tem had in mind. "Do...d'you want me to take these off?" he whispered, hoping that the answer would be yes.  
"Of course; it's going to be difficult if you don't." Peck gave a throaty laugh, enjoying his mastery over his strong-minded mate.  
Hannibal brought his other hand down and swiftly pushed the silk material over the slim hips, releasing the generous mound of Peck's manhood, closing his eyes at the wondrous feel of Tem's bare flesh against his own.  
"That feels so good, Tem baby...so very, very good."  
"Yeah, it sure does." Face sounded a trifle breathless, as he wriggled, trying to kick the shorts all the way off.   
Hannibal gave him some help, sliding them all the way down the long legs, then sat up slightly to pluck them from around his Lieutenant's ankles. "That better?" he asked huskily.  
"Much..." agreed Face. Unencumbered by the shorts, he knelt astride Hannibal, his strong, youthful legs gripping Smith's thighs.  
"Now where did I get too...." he murmured sliding his hands up Hannibal's sides, running a teasing fingertip inward over his lover's ribs on their way to his partner's broad chest.   
Finding the hard peaks of Smith's nipples, he circled them swiftly before bending to kiss each one, his hair making a silken tent over each kiss.   
"Ah..Tem...love you so damn much..." sighed Hannibal, arching his body to meet that of his mate.  
Face's legs straightened out until he was lying on top of his Colonel’s larger body, his aroused genitals eagerly meeting Smith's.  
By this time, Smith was again being engulfed in a mixture of love and desire; his own hands went roaming of their own accord, stroking down Face's lean flanks; over the firm curves of the slender hips, to curl over the twin globes of his buttocks. Pressing their heated groins together, he groaned as their cocks touched, each organ greeting the other with increasing passion, as if knowing they'd been parted for too long.  
"Ohh, Hannibal..." Tem breathed huskily, "that, that's wonderful, it's been so long, so very long." He raised his mouth from his lover's chest and found the older man's mouth, nibbling it with soft, deep, kisses, until they were both breathless.  
Breaking off the kiss, Face slid sideways, urging the bigger man over onto his stomach, so he could press his hardening shaft against Smith's buttocks, needing desperately to sheathe himself in his partner's willing form.  
Smith rolled with the flow, knowing that this was a crucial test for both of them, not wanting to slow his lover down for a second. As the welcome weight of the slender body pressed him into the mattress and the hot, hard lance penetrated his receptive body, a cry of unbridled pleasure was torn from his lips. It was echoed a few moments later by Tem, as the younger man climaxed deep inside him and for the next wild, wonderful minutes, it was as it had been, when they'd first become lovers.  
Half sobbing with relief and pleasure, Tem withdrew his spent shaft and rolled off his lover’s back and Smith immediately turned round and gathered the trembling body close to his chest.   
He kissed the tear-damp lashes and panting mouth with lips that wanted to shout aloud their triumph over the horrors of the last weeks. He felt as though he, and Tem, had come home after a long and arduous journey; even their present predicament couldn't stop his elation.  
"My dear, dear, Tem...that was great."  
Face rested his flushed forehead against Hannibal's shoulder, slowly getting his breath back after his shattering climax. He felt drained, yet elated; triumphant yet humbled, but also ecstatic and proud... and very, very satisfied.  
"Hannibal?"  
"Yes, my love?" purred Smith.  
"Nothing, really...it's just that...that..." Face didn't know what he wanted to say, except his thanks.  
"What?" asked Smith stroking a hand through the disordered hair.  
"Just...thanks, lover."  
Hannibal hugged him, hearing the tears behind the whisper. "I should be saying that to you, Tem." He hesitated, wondering if he should mention the past, then added. "I've missed us being together like this. I'm so glad you wanted me tonight."  
Face snuggled further into Smith's arms, his hand coming up to touch his partner's cheek. "I've missed us too, Hannibal. I wasn't sure if I could ever get back to the way we were..." He paused, then sighed, "I'm glad you let me love you, tonight." Then turning his flushed face up to his lover, he kissed Hannibal, as he added softly, "Making love with the person you love, is wonderful, isn't it?"  
Smith could only agree, wholeheartedly. "It sure is, Face. That is certainly, most definitely, emphatically, correct."  
Face smiled, then yawned, before settling his head on Smith's upper chest and contentedly, closed his eyes. "Night, lover."  
Smith kissed the top of the fair head tenderly, "Goodnight, my own, sweet, love."  
Usually, they talked and made plans before settling to sleep, but talking could wait until later, much later. In any event, everything had been said, without words. Making himself comfortable without releasing his precious armful of sleeping Lieutenant, Smith settled his chin on top of Face's head and lay staring at the moonlit window, his lips curved into a smile of utter satisfaction. It was only when the window became dark as the smiling Man in the Moon moved on, did he close his eyes and sleep.

Smith awoke around dawn, feeling relaxed and happy, the events of the previous few hours uppermost in his memory. Surely, now, things would start to get better. He and Tem had reaffirmed and sealed their love with a passion that still sent shudders of excitement through Smith's veins.   
He felt the welcome weight of his lover lying against his side, one of Tem's long legs was bent between his thighs, one arm lying across Smith's chest, his own arms wrapped around the slim form.  
Hannibal could feel the softness of the fair hair against his shoulder and the weight of the more solid, but equally soft-skinned genitals pressed against his hip. He grinned a trifle wolfishly, they hadn't been that soft earlier; in fact he could still feel the sensation of that quite substantial organ throbbing inside him. The heat and thrill of Tem's body, as the younger man took him into the realms of his own personal paradise, would stay with him for a long, long time.  
Face had been on fire with passion, wanting to take charge and Hannibal hadn't wanted to stop him. He'd loved the feeling of Tem taking him, filling him with the scalding streams of his desire, the liquid fire flowing into every corner of Hannibal's being, sending him over the top into groaning ecstasy.  
He remembered the shuddering aftermath when Face's sweat-slicked body had collapsed on top of him, panting with the effort he'd made and the release of long pent-up emotions he hadn't wanted, or dared to express, for what seemed a very long time.  
Although Hannibal had wanted to reciprocate and slake his own desire in the warm sheath of Tem's seductive form, he’d held back; knowing instinctively that it was too soon to make that kind of demand on Face's healing body. He was certain now, more than ever before, that their relationship would survive and they would get back to sharing the physical side of their love, Tem just needed a little more time. So, the sooner they could deal with Maddox and his gang of drug-pushers and sadists, the better their chances of happiness.  
Smith didn't know what the future held for them, but he was content. Tem had passed an important milestone last night, one he'd once thought would never be conquered. His deceptively fragile-looking, but immensely strong-minded, lover had, however, come through with flying colours. Although they had other, serious problems to contend with, at least they'd face them together; as a couple; whose relationship was once again whole, with both the physical and emotional side balancing each other.  
The most serious problem was Tem's lack of sight, but in his present euphoric mood, Hannibal was sure that that too, could, and would, be cured.  
He stroked the back of the fair head, nestling so close to his own, with a sigh of complete satisfaction. He knew he'd have to rise and face the day with whatever troubles and stress it might bring, but at the moment he held his whole world in his arms, and was content.  
Although he did not want to move, the call of nature was becoming irresistible. He eased his arm carefully out from under Face's head and slid out of the bed. Glancing at the clock, he realised he would have to get up in half an hour in any case, so decided to have a shower so that he would be free to help Face when his lover awoke.   
He padded barefoot to the bathroom and was soon singing softly to himself under the shower as he washed his hair.  
Back in the bedroom, Face rolled over and stretched, flexing each limb with inward pleasure. He kept his eyes closed, but his sensual lips parted into a smile of pure sunshine, as he recalled the events of the previous night and early morning. Well, that was one thing he didn't have to wonder, or worry about any longer, his sexual equipment worked just fine. He hadn't known how much he was worrying until he'd started to make love to Hannibal, but the combination of his own youthful vitality and the feelings he had for his macho Colonel, not to mention Hannibal's complete understanding of his needs, had overcome that particular block in his mind, making him sexually whole again.   
Wanting to share this wonderful morsel of information with his lover, he reached out a hand to touch Hannibal. His eyes flew open in alarm as his searching hand met only empty sheets and instead of seeing the contents of the bedroom, he saw only white light, and was forcibly reminded of his sudden blindness.  
For a moment he felt black despair and struggled to sit up, realising how sight was an important factor in balance to anyone who had been recently blinded, as it took him a couple of attempts to sit upright in the bed. He had a lot to learn if he wasn’t to become totally dependent on others.  
"Hannibal..." he called, trying to subdue the panic which was threatening him.  
He reached out again and found Smith's discarded pyjama jacket. A feeling of relief flooded through him as the feel of the soft fabric reassured him that last night had not been a dream of longing; it had actually happened and his pounding heart began to slow down a trifle.   
Deciding that he would deal with being independent and his other problems later, he carefully traced the collar and sleeves of the jacket and put it on, fastening the top button only. It was too big, of course, the cuffs of the sleeves hanging down over his wrists, but it gave him instant comfort.  
Giving a sigh, he cocked his head to one side and listened. A smile floated on his lips as he heard, quite plainly, the sound of running water and the faint sound of Smith singing in the shower.  
Moving carefully to the side of the bed, Face swung his legs over the edge and waited.  
Smith came out of the bathroom, rubbing at his short silver hair with a towel, water droplets running over the smooth skin of his broad chest, dripping rhythmically onto the larger towel which encased his hips. At every stride, his legs, tanned and muscular, showed briefly at the wrapover edge of the dark blue towel. Draping the smaller towel around his neck, he stopped short at the sight that met his astonished eyes.  
His Lieutenant, whom he'd left asleep and totally naked, was sitting on the side of the bed, hands clasped rather primly together, a slight smile on his lips. His fair hair was rumpled, a rebellious silky lock hanging over his brow and his upper torso lost in his Smith's own pyjama jacket. His long, suntanned legs, however, were bare right up to the edge of the jacket which was open just far enough to show a tantalising, glimpse of his quiescent genitals.  
Smith's mouth gaped open, not only was the sight enough to make his own penis twitch with hunger, it was also the calm expression on the handsome face that took his attention.  
It was the expression of a man with time to spare, waiting leisurely to use the shower, as he'd done a lifetime ago.   
Hearing Hannibal's muffled gasp, Tem uncrossed his ankles and gripped the edge of the bed with his hands. "You about finished in there, Hannibal?" he asked in a low, husky voice.  
Smith found his voice after opening and closing his jaws a couple of times. "Er...yes...you... er...you okay?" He shook his head. "Sorry, Tem. What a perfectly idiotic thing to ask?"  
The blond head shook a negative. "That's okay, Hannibal - and yes, I'm fine."  
Smith came closer, eyes eagerly devouring every nuance of expression on the calm features. "That mean you can see anything?" he asked hopefully.   
His high expectations took a nose-dive as the fair head shook a denial. "Not yet. I can see light, though..." He cocked his head. "That a good sign, you think?"  
Smith swallowed. "Yes," he said, hoping it was true.  
Face shifted slightly and slid off the bed and Hannibal’s eyes couldn't help but follow the movement of those long, athletic limbs. He gulped slightly as the overlarge jacket slipped to one side, exposing one of the younger man's smooth brown shoulders. It also made the bottom of the jacket sway dangerously open and showed off the tops of smooth-skinned thighs and the well-shaped organs nestling between.  
A wave of heat travelled the whole length of Smith as his body reacted to that erotic sight. It was like tiny explosions in every nerve ending and he bit his lip, feeling his genitals swell, helpless to halt his erection as it rose to push impatiently at the damp folds of material around his waist. His hands tightened on his neck towel, as he exerted every ounce of will power to prevent himself from lifting Tem's gorgeous form into his arms, throw him down onto the bed and slake the urgent need, burning between his own legs.  
Face put out a hand, his eyes slightly off centre as he moved slowly forward. "You gonna wash my back, Colonel?" he teased softly, unaware of the effect he was having on his aroused partner.  
"Er...yes, if you want me too," Smith's voice was hoarse with desire, but his love won out over his lust and he was in control again.   
Face hesitated, sensing something amiss. "You okay, Colonel?"   
Smith took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth. "Okay? I've never been so okay. Templeton, you really are the most beautiful man. Absolutely perfect."  
Face flushed at the fervour in his tone and tried to lighten the moment. "Why thank you, kindly." He paused, then added, "is that a yes, or a no?"  
"Wal," Hannibal drawled, "I'd love to wash your back, but I don't know whether I can trust myself in the same shower. You look wonderful, Tem."  
The sincerity in his lover's voice made Face blush an even deeper colour. "Thank you," he said, no flippancy in his tone now.  
Smith took Face's outstretched hand and pulled him closer for a hug.   
"You were spectacular last night..." he murmured into one flushed ear. Then kissing his lover lightly on the forehead, added, "not that you're ever anything else, of course."  
Face laid his head on Smith's damp shoulder. "It's amazing what you can do with your eyes closed," he said softly, pressing his lips to the warm skin under his cheek.   
Hannibal's heart twisted with pain at the matter-of-fact tone and he hugged the slim body tighter.  
Face could feel his lover's pain and tried again to lighten the atmosphere. "So, you don't think that being blind is a handicap in bed, then?"  
Responding to Tem's effort, Hannibal managed to reply. "Not in the slightest," he said, as cheerfully as he could. "Not in any other department either," he added forcefully.  
"That's okay, then," said Face. "Now how about that shower?"  
Smith did end up in the shower, but only to help Face. He was so busy making sure his younger partner didn't fall on the wet tiled floor, that he was unaware of the exact moment when his aroused body gave up its demands; but did feel more comfortable when the shower was over and he’d helped dry off his partner.  
What Smith did notice, however, was that the nearer the time came to leave the apartment, the more anxious and agitated Peck became.   
He fussed over every item of clothing that Smith handed to him.  
"What colour is this?" he asked as he fingered the shirt he'd just been given.  
"White," said Smith patiently.  
"You sure? It doesn't feel like my white silk shirt."  
"It's not silk," Hannibal elaborated. "It's hot outside, thought you would want a cotton one."  
"I do know the difference between silk and cotton, Hannibal, even with my eyes closed," Peck snapped.  
"Sorry." Smith sighed inwardly, he should know by now how particular Face was about his clothes. Normally, they could joke about it, but at the moment his lover was gearing up for a temper tantrum and Smith couldn't blame him in the least. He squinted at the offending shirt and realised it was more of a creamy white  
On hearing this, Face sniffed and tossed it back. "That won't match my blue blazer and white pants...it has to be white, white."  
"Okay, Tem...this is pure white," Smith handed over another shirt.  
"This isn't right, either," said Peck, irritated anew.  
"It's white and it's silk,” said Hannibal, carefully.  
"Not the one I want...the buttons are different."  
Smith delved into the packed wardrobes again, wishing he was as interested in Peck's outer clothes as he was in his underwear. He was being delightfully distracted by the vision of the golden-skinned, blond-haired beauty standing there, clad only in a pair of white silk briefs.  
Concentrating on his search, he eventually came back with another shirt, which he handed to his mate.  
This one evidently met with Peck's approval as he put the soft material to his face and nodded. "Okay."  
"White socks, with the white pants, m'lud?" asked Hannibal, trying to get Peck to relax a little.  
Peck suddenly grinned. "Yes, thank you, Jeeves." He put out his hand searching for his Colonel's. Smith met it with a firm grasp.  
"Thanks, Hannibal, sorry to be such a pain-in-the-butt."  
"Yeah, you are," admitted Smith cheerfully, then added in a deliberately lascivious tone, "...and were, especially last night." He commenced biting at Tem's fingers, growling ferociously as his mouth moved up Face's bare arm.  
"Down, boy," smiled Peck, but he didn't pull away until Smith's lips touched his bare shoulder. "Or we'll never get me dressed." He paused, "now that's a great idea, what d'you think, Colonel?"  
Smith paused, hearing the hint of anxiety in his mate's voice. He was tempted to let Peck have his own way, but knew they really did have to keep the appointment with Maggie's specialist.  
"Decisions, decisions," he sighed theatrically, still hoping to keep Peck in a good mood. "What a choice? Now if I had my own way..." he said.  
"Yeah, I know, but we don't really have all that much of a choice today, do we?" Peck's tone was quiet, and his mouth drooped dejectedly.  
Smith put his other arm around the half-naked figure. "It will be okay, Tem, I know it will. If this Stephen-what's-his-name, is only half as good as Maggie says, he'll be able to help, or know where to get the best for you." He kissed the frowning brow. "I know it's almost impossible, but try not to worry too much."  
Peck rested his head against his lover's shoulder, soaking up the strength and reassurance which radiated from Smith, like a flower turns to the sun.  
"I so want to believe that, Hannibal... more than anything. It seems so ironic, just when I was starting to get my act together. I was beginning to feel more like my old self, then this knocks me for six." He made a choked sound, half-sob half-laugh. "Guess, I'm not as brilliant as I thought."  
Smith held his chin, lifting up the woeful face to kiss the parted lips. "You are, Tem. Don't knock yourself back like that. You've done extremely well, I might even say, brilliantly..." as he hoped that brought a small grin to those luscious lips, "and don't you forget it. The things you've suffered recently were enough to make anyone depressed, but not everyone would've recovered as quickly, or completely as you are doing. So don't give up, Lieutenant, my fantastic, beautiful Lieutenant, we'll lick this... and those scumballs... together. You hear me?"  
Peck was silent a moment, feeling warm and loved. "I hear you, Colonel," he whispered and kissed Smith very gently on the mouth.  
Half an hour later Peck was immaculately dressed in the white shirt and slim fitting pants, fiddling with the buttons of his blue blazer as Smith talked on the phone to Murdock and BA.   
The Colonel had decided at the last minute to involve the big sergeant in case they needed back-up, for with Face being incapacitated as he was, they would need help if they fell foul of the military, or any of their enemies out for revenge.   
Hannibal had also decided to tell Murdock at the same time, feeling it was better if all the Team knew the situation at present. As he'd expected, both of their friends were extremely distressed. After his initial shocked silence, Murdock's voice was hoarse with unshed tears as he tried to ask questions, then remained silent as his commander carefully explained where he and Face were going that day.   
"Give Facey a big hug from me, Hannibal..." whispered the pilot, then carefully replaced the receiver before curling over onto his bed, finally allowing the tears to flow unchecked. He'd been so worried about Face, then when his friend's health had started to improve, Murdock's spirits had begun to rise.  
Now this bombshell. It just wasn't fair. Surely they'd all suffered enough...especially Face.  
BA's distress manifested itself into violent anger, the sound of his fist hitting a plaster wall coming quite clearly over the telephone line. He wanted to go and find whoever was responsible right then and there, and beat them senseless, or worse.   
Upon hearing what Smith needed however, he calmed down and agreed to act as chauffeur for the day.  
Never one for words, BA didn't say much to his blond team-mate as he helped him into his usual seat in the van, merely putting an arm round Face's shoulders and squeezing hard, all his emotions in that reassuring hug. Face understood the unspoken sympathy and smiled gently, patting the muscular arm curved securely round him.  
After being dropped off by B.A., who was to wait for a call on the van phone, before coming to collect them again, Smith and Peck eventually arrived at the address Maggie had given them. They found her waiting in the foyer of the exclusive tower block which housed Stephen Pierce's clinic.  
The lady doctor looked very smart in a cream linen, two-piece suit, set off by a chiffon flowered blouse, her dark curls shining in the sunlight.  
Smith gave an inward whistle at the attractive sight and greeted her with a twinkle in his sapphire blue eyes. "Hello, Doc. My, my, don't we look smart?"  
Maggie flushed faintly at the admiration in the Colonel's voice and eyes.   
“You don’t look so bad yourselves, Colonel,” she acknowledged with a dimpled smile.  
Peck looked very smart in the designer pants and blazer, his striped tie in an immaculate knot against the tanned skin of his throat. His eyes were still as green as the ocean on a sunny day, but he looked a little uncertain and kept a hand lightly on Smith's forearm, as the older man guided him across the marble floor.  
The Colonel also looked very handsome and Doctor Sullivan's heart beat a little faster as she took in Smith's tall, strong, body clad in matching denim jacket and pants. The deep blue of his clothes emphasizing the vividness of his sparkling sapphire eyes, which could express such warmth, or spark with icy fury when he was angered.  
“Well gentlemen, you’re right on time. I've checked with Stephen, he's waiting for us." She pressed the elevator button, then turned to touch Peck on the wrist. "How're you feeling today, Face?" she asked softly.  
Face took a deep breath, trying to still the sudden flicker of panic as her hand touched his. "Not too bad, Doc," he managed to say lightly and only Hannibal and himself knew the effort it cost him to speak so calmly.  
"That's good, I'm glad," she said sincerely.  
Peck relaxed a trifle, knowing she meant it, and decided to try not to bristle every time she came near his Colonel.  
Just then the elevator doors swung open and they entered the wood-panelled interior.  
"It's the tenth floor," she said as she pressed the relevant button; Smith inwardly applauded her sensitivity as she let Peck know where they were going.  
"I once had an apartment on the tenth floor," Peck said suddenly, trying to make polite conversation to still his nerves, "had a great view of the sea."  
"I remember that one," grinned Smith, "didn't B.A. rip the walls out of the elevators?"  
"No," snorted Peck, "that was the penthouse one when we helped Lin Duc Coo." He sighed nostalgically. "It was a beautiful apartment."  
"Don't feel bad, Face, you would've had to leave when Mr Tony came back from his European trip, anyway." Smith grinned, enjoying the memory of that particular job, and the way he'd teased his Lieutenant about the pink, silk pyjamas. The way that Peck's green eyes had flashed indignantly at him, had kept Smith in high spirits all day.  
Luckily, Maggie knew them well enough not to mind talk of things she hadn't shared; she also knew that teasing was only one of the ways that Smith kept his junior officer in line, and Peck needed the distraction to stop him brooding.  
Smith tensed imperceptibly as the elevator doors opened on the ninth floor, then relaxed as a teenage girl got into the car, carrying an armful of files. She smiled cheerfully at them, but was inwardly jealous of the attractive woman with two such handsome escorts.  
The next time the doors opened, Maggie stepped forward. "Here we are," she announced quietly, and the three adults got out.  
Peck's hand tightened on Smith's arm as they walked down the corridor, their shoes making no sound on the thick carpeting.  
Hannibal patted his hand reassuringly as they approached the doors which stated in gold lettering that it was the clinic of Stephen Pierce.  
Taking a deep breath Peck squared his shoulders and walked steadily beside his Colonel into the unknown and undecided future.   
Stephen Pierce was a tall, thin man of about Smith's age, with dark brown hair streaked with grey and keen grey eyes which missed nothing of their progress across the floor of his consulting room.  
He greeted Maggie affectionately and gave his hand to Smith, then said to Face. "Hello, Mr. Peck, I'm Stephen Pierce..." before taking his hand and squeezing it briefly.  
Face managed to mutter a reply and was somewhat relieved to find the surgeon's grasp firm and reassuring.  
"Please sit down," Pierce said, waving Smith towards two chairs set before his huge desk, while Maggie took a chair to the rear of them.   
Getting Peck settled took only a moment or two, then Smith moved his chair until the arms were just touching the one his lover was sitting in, so Tem would know he was there.  
The Neurologist asked if they wanted anything to drink and receiving a negative from everyone, sat down behind his desk and got straight to the point.  
"Doctor Sullivan has told me of your er...special circumstances, and I just want you to know that you have nothing to fear from the military, or any authorities, as far as I'm concerned." He smiled at Smith, "I was in 'Nam too, Colonel, and know some of what happened out there. There's nothing like having your own men testify for you, and every boy you brought back out of that jungle, sung your praises. I never believed you were guilty of robbery," he paused, then added, "it just wasn't your style."  
Smith relaxed a fraction, he had a knack of knowing when he could trust someone and his instincts were telling him that this doctor was okay.   
"Thanks, Doc," he said quietly, remembering with pain, that horrific time. He turned as Peck sat forward. "It's okay, Tem," he reassured his junior officer.  
Peck looked towards the desk. "I'd like to add my thanks too, Doctor," he said. "It's always nice to know that there are some of the good guys out there who are rooting for us."  
"I'm sure there are more than you know," said Pierce, "now then," he rose to his feet. "Shall we get on with these tests. Maggie has filled me in with what she knows, but I'd like to hear from you, Mr. Peck."  
He walked across to another door half hidden behind a very large, very expensive, bookcase. "This is my examination room, if you'll come with me, I'll check you over."  
Peck held up a hand and Smith was there in an instant, taking it in a firm grip, knowing that his partner was feeling scared, angry at his helplessness, and belligerent because of that helplessness.  
"We'll all go," said Smith, glancing at the medical man as if daring him to disagree, but Pierce just nodded and held open the door.  
The adjoining room turned out to be a suite of three, fitted out with every modern piece of equipment known to medical science.  
Smith whistled and glanced back at Maggie, raising an eyebrow.   
She smiled and shook her head, her expression said Don't ask.  
Pierce saw the look and grinned to himself, then decided to put the legendary Colonel in the picture.  
"Yes, very grand isn't it?" he said, waving a hand, not without a certain amount of pride, around his consulting rooms.  
"I'm on the board of quite a few hospitals," he said, "and to be honest, most of that is boring, until I get the chance to really help someone." He came across to Peck and said quietly. "I'm just going to guide you across the room, there's an alcove there, where you can get changed."  
"Changed?" Peck said, managing not to flinch more than a twitch as the older man touched his arm.  
"Of course," said Pierce cheerfully. "Afraid I can't examine you properly with all your clothes on. That blazer is a work of art, we don't want to get it crumpled."  
"Oh!" said Peck. "Hannibal?" he ventured.  
Smith answered him by taking his hand and walked his partner across to the alcove, which was just a small door-less room, furnished with a padded bench running along one wall, and a small table. It also included a row of coat hooks and hangers and a cupboard, on the top of which was a pile of clean white hospital gowns. There was also a wheeled screen to afford the occupants a degree of privacy.   
"I'll help you Tem," he said and the surgeon nodded, leaving the Colonel to do the rest.  
"You were saying," Smith said, as he helped Peck shed the clothes so carefully picked that morning.  
"Ah, yes...well," the physician sat on the edge of his examining table, swinging one leg as he waited patiently for his patient to be ready. "They pay me an awful lot of money to advise them on these boards and I also have a lot of rich patients, some of whom are actually ill too," he said as Smith looked around the partition, raising an eyebrow.  
"Anyway, when I found out that a lot of the hospitals don't take patients unable to pay for their health insurance, I decided to set up an alternative," he paused and looked at Maggie, who nodded encouragingly. "With a few people who felt the same way, and whom I knew to be excellent doctors, we set up this Foundation."  
Maggie spoke up from her place near the outer connecting doorway. She had been quiet, letting the men talk, partly because she knew that Face would feel less vulnerable if he could forget she was there. "And it works fine." She explained further for Smith's benefit. "A lot of families of Vets, don't have health insurance, so this way they can always find medical help without the hassle of going through a lot of red tape."   
She glanced over at Pierce who had lost his smile and was looking into the far distance... maybe as far as Saigon thought Smith uneasily, as he pulled off Tem's pants, folding them neatly, before depositing them on the table. He was distracted for a moment, as always, by the sight of his lover's slim, sun-kissed form, standing there, clad only in his silk briefs.  
"Those that can pay, do, those that can't, still get treatment." Smith heard Maggie add, as she left her position by the door and came across to Pierce, putting a hand on his arm, bringing him back to an awareness of where he was.  
Pierce smiled again. "We also help some fugitives," he said, showing that he had been aware of the conversation. He patted Maggie on the arm reassuringly, taking her hand and pressing a light kiss into the palm.   
Hannibal saw this tender gesture as he glanced around the edge of the screen, and wondered anew how close a friendship existed between the two medics. He picked up one of the gowns and slipped it over Peck's arms, going round behind him to fasten the ties, taking the opportunity while unobserved, to lift Tem's hair and plant a swift kiss on the back of his tanned neck. He felt Face shiver with delight and heard his low sigh of pleasure, before taking his hand and guiding him out into the main room.   
Pierce got off the table and turned to where Peck was standing, dressed in a cotton gown which barely reached his knees. "Now, young man...let's get on with these tests."   
Peck gripped Hannibal's arm. "Couldn't you find a shorter gown?" he hissed to his lover, as he felt the cooler air around his bare thighs. "I bet I look a right jerk," he complained.   
Smith led him towards the examination couch and the waiting physician. "Just as always," he said lightly, then added, "You look great, Tem. Anyway, you want to spoil all my fun? It's not often I get to undress you in public," he teased softly.  
"Yeah. Its the public I'm worried about," muttered Peck.  
"No need," said Smith, winking at Pierce who was trying not to listen to the whispered conversation. "He's seen it all before and besides you've still got your shorts on."  
"Big deal," muttered Face again, knowing exactly how short the said shorts were. He felt the edge of the examination table and used Smith's strong arm as a lever to climb up onto the couch. He swallowed and tried to still the frantic beating of his heart, as he lay back, grateful to feel Hannibal's hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder.   
Two hours later, Smith was helping Peck get dressed again, tired himself at the length of all the various tests. Peck was trembling with weariness and Smith knew he was on the verge of another temper outburst. They'd already had one when Pierce had asked if he'd had anything to drink, or taken any drugs that might account for his condition.  
"No, I bloody well haven't," Peck had snapped. "Hannibal I want to leave... this isn't going to help."   
Before Smith could soothe his agitated lover, Pierce had taken Peck's chin and held his head steady as he'd waved a light before the sightless green eyes, saying quietly. "Don't get upset, Mr. Peck, I just have to know all the details, you'd be surprised how little of any substance can upset the delicate balance..." He'd stopped short, as the pupils of Peck's eyes reacted to the light.   
"Can you see the difference between light and dark?" he asked.  
Peck's mouth set in a stubborn line and Smith sighed inwardly. He'd hoped that once the examination was underway, Face would just submit to the inevitable, but he should've known better. His Lieutenant didn't easily submit to anything, or anyone, except maybe to Hannibal himself, when the Colonel was in a dominating mood and wanted to take full charge of their loving. The images that conjured up - silky hair, satin-skin, firm thighs and the warm sweet centre of his beloved, hadn't done anything for Smith's composure and he'd firmly pushed them away to concentrate on helping Face through this difficult examination.  
He'd placed a firm hand on his partner's shoulder. "Can you tell the difference, Tem? Please, the Doc is trying to help us."   
At the familiar touch and quiet tone, Peck's mouth had lost a little of its tenseness.  
"Sometimes," he admitted grudgingly. "I saw white light this morning, but it went away again." He hid the tremor in his voice very well, but it didn't escape the notice of either of the older men.   
"Hmm, well that rules out another cause," muttered Pierce. He didn't elaborate and went on with his slow examination.  
Not only did he examine Peck's eyes, but went carefully over his skull, his long fingers sifting through the long fair hair with infinite patience. This part of the examination sent a slight tinge of jealousy through Smith. He hadn't felt it when Maggie had done something similar, but this man was far too attractive, sensitive and intelligent for Smith's peace-of-mind. He quashed the feeling ruthlessly. Tem's welfare was far too important for any emotion as negative as jealousy.   
When Pierce had finished his examination of Peck's skull, without finding any recent wound which might account for his condition, he gave him another physical, a more thorough one than Maggie had been able to do with her limited equipment, until Peck was ready to explode from sheer tiredness and frustration. The surgeon had, or so it seemed to Peck, used every piece of equipment he'd ever heard about. The scanner had been the worst from Face's point of view; having to lie absolutely still, with his head encased in a metal cylinder, made him feel claustrophobic, even though it was a rather large cylinder. Besides being unable to see, he wasn't allowed to talk while the scanner beeped and purred and took its time in examining its nervous and unwilling patient. Pierce had questioned Face, quietly but firmly, on his exact movements from the time he'd gone out that fateful morning, to when he'd lost his sight.   
Some of the questions Pierce asked didn't make much sense to Peck, and his temper was simmering by the time the surgeon had stepped back and said. "You can get dressed now."  
"Hoo-bloody-ray," Peck had murmured, almost inaudibly, not caring if the others heard him or not.  
Smith had been glad to see that Pierce merely smiled ruefully and shook his head.  
"So, what's the verdict, Doc?" Smith asked, as, back behind the screen, he started to button the white shirt which had been such a bone of contention earlier. He sighed as Face, now sitting on the bench, slapped his hands aside and began to slowly fasten the tiny buttons himself.  
Picking up the white pants, Hannibal shook them out, ready to help, then moved the screen slightly so that he could see what Pierce was doing.   
"Ummm?" Pierce looked up from scribbling notes on his pad. "Oh, I'll have to study these tests before I can say for sure... but I have a suspicion that there's nothing physically wrong with our young friend here. He's in superb shape."   
You ain't wrong there, thought Smith.   
"...especially after the recent ill treatment he's suffered," went on the physician.  
Peck's head snapped up as he realised Pierce must know about the assault and his mouth twisted bitterly. How many more people were going to find out? he raged inwardly.  
He put his hand out for his pants and Smith, who had had one eye on his Lieutenant's progress, quickly went back to his side. They were almost snatched from his hand by the irate patient, and Smith kept his temper as he watched the normally sure fingers fumble with the clothing.  
He hesitated, unwilling to irritate his lover into another outburst, then relaxed a trifle as Peck stood up  
carefully. Leaning against the small table, managing to keep his balance, the younger man successfully put on the pants, right way round, then zipped them up with a triumphant flourish.  
Smith decided not to tell him that his shirt was hanging out slightly at the side and put Peck's socks and shoes on the bench beside him, as Face sat down again.  
"Okay, Tem?" he asked softly.  
Peck's temper, diluted slightly by his Colonel's understanding and his own small triumph in dressing himself, cooled enough for him to nod, and say quietly, "Thanks, Hannibal."  
"No problem, kid." Smith felt like a cigar, but decided he could wait until he could smoke it in peace.  
Peck felt for his footwear and slowly but surely managed to put them on.  
Pierce finished writing up his notes, nodded to Smith then went out to see Maggie, who had retired into his office when the heated words had started. It wasn’t because she didn't want to get involved, but knew it would make things worse for Smith - and Stephen.  
When Peck really lost his temper, his razor-sharp sarcasm could hurt, then he ended up feeling worse as his guilt set in. Oh yes, she knew the Lieutenant in a lot of moods, good and bad. She knew his charm, as well as his anger; knew also that he would be very distressed if he knew, that she knew, how vulnerable he was.  
Dressed, and feeling less embarrassed now that he felt the comfort of material between his bare skin and the leather of the couch, Face stood up carefully and looked towards where he sensed his Colonel was standing.  
"Well, Hannibal?" he ventured.  
"Very nice," commented Smith, taking Peck's arm. He was a little surprised when Face leaned towards him and planted a lopsided kiss on his cheek. "Um...that's even nicer," he said softly, cupping his lover's chin in one hand and kissing him squarely on the mouth.  
"We'd better go and get the verdict," Peck said a few, breathless moments later, unwilling to stop Hannibal's caresses, but not wanting to be caught out by Maggie, or Pierce.  
"Okay," breathed Hannibal softly. "Just a sec," he murmured, as he carefully tucked in the rebellious  
shirt. Then, putting one arm around his partner's slim waist, he picked up Tem's blazer and tie before  
guiding his precious armful towards the outer office.  
Pierce was just putting the phone down when the two Team members entered the room. He watched without comment as they sat down in their previous seats, and Smith took out a cigar.  
"Right, we're all ears," he quipped, hiding his concern under a flippant manner.  
Pierce looked at his hands, then at Peck, who was sitting on the edge of his chair. "I know this is tiring for you, for all of us, but I need a couple of hours to study the test results, before I can make any kind of diagnosis."  
"Oh great!" said Peck.   
"Isn't there anything you can tell us now, Doc? As you can realise, we're kinda anxious," Smith asked tensely.   
Pierce nodded. "Yes, I know, but it would be worse if I had to change my mind because I'd missed something."  
"Yeah...I suppose," the disappointment was tangible in Smith's tone.  
"I can tell you one thing though, gentlemen," said Pierce compassionately. "There is no sign of any physical damage in the brain." He paused, half-smilingly, "I can't, of course, comment on your good sense, or lack of it, Lieutenant, that can't be measured by a machine..." The attempt to lighten the atmosphere didn't go unnoticed by either Peck or Smith and they relaxed slightly. That had been one of their greatest worries, unspoken, but nonetheless urgent.  
Pierce got up. "I know your circumstances, so I'll be as quick as I can...but can you come back in a couple of hours or so? That would really help me out."  
Smith glanced over at Maggie, who nodded slightly. "I guess we'll have to wait then, Doc." He glanced at his Lieutenant, weighing up his level of exhaustion.  
Pierce spoke up. "I have an apartment two floors up. If you like, you could wait in there. Save you going out into the traffic again," he offered hospitably.   
Smith appreciated the gesture, knowing the surgeon meant less risk of them being spotted.  
"What d'you think, Tem?" he asked.  
Peck hesitated. Much as he didn't like being outside with strangers he couldn't see, he felt as though he wanted to get out from under the surgeon's jurisdiction, even for a little while.  
"Don't we have to check in with B.A.?" he ventured. "He's waiting for us."  
"Yes, of course," said Smith, catching his partner's uncertainty. He stood up, holding out his hand to Pierce. "Thanks all the same, Doc, but we'll come back - in - what? Couple of hours, or so?"  
Pierce nodded. "Make it about fourteen hundred hours, that'll give me a chance to study the tests." He glanced at his watch, "and I have to see a patient at noon."  
"Okay," said Smith, "we'll grab some lunch and be back by then." He put his hand on Peck's arm, urging him to his feet. "That okay with you, Tem?"  
The blond head nodded. "Sure," he said briefly.  
Doctor Sullivan got to her feet.   
"I'll have to get back to my clinic, Stephen. Thanks a lot," she said, gathering up her briefcase.  
"Would you like to join us, for lunch?" asked Smith, as he helped his lieutenant back into his blazer.  
Peck held his breath, hoping the answer would be in the negative, then immediately felt a twinge of guilt at his own jealousy.  
Maggie glanced at her watch. "Thanks, Hannibal, but I really do have to get back. Walt might need some help. Another time, maybe."  
"Sure, Maggie. Thanks - again - for all your help."  
The woman doctor smiled fondly at Smith. "No problem, Colonel. I'll see you both again." She put a hand on Peck's arm. "Bye, Templeton. Take care."  
The Lieutenant took her hand with only a slight fumble and pressed it firmly. "Thanks, Maggie, you do the same." He hesitated, then added sincerely. "I really do appreciate you helping me."  
Maggie shushed him with a gentle finger on his lips. "I know, Tem. Don't worry, or at least, try not too... you're in very good hands, here."  
Peck nodded. "Thanks," he said gruffly.  
A few minutes later, Peck breathed a sigh of relief as Smith guided him out of the elevator on the second floor. They said a further farewell to Maggie, who stayed in the car to descend to the car park in the basement.  
The second floor lobby of the expensive tower block was a spacious place, with comfortable couches  
and chairs arranged around windows overlooking the busy streets on one side of the building, and the glass  
walls of an indoor swimming pool and gardens on the other.  
Finding an empty corner, Smith sat Peck down facing the windows and took out his radio. Speaking softly, he contacted B.A. and told their sergeant that they had left the Doctor's office and would have to return in a couple of hours.  
"What you want to do, Hannibal?" B.A.'s gruff voice came over the tiny device.  
Smith paused, looking at Peck, who was gazing towards the windows, handsome features set into a pleasant, open expression - for show, thought Hannibal, compassionately.  
"Face?" he asked.   
"What?"  
"What do you want to do? Go home? Stay here for lunch?"   
The broad shoulders under the immaculate jacket shrugged. "Don't mind, whatever..."  
"We'll only have to come back here," Smith thought out loud.  
"Do we?" the question was low-voiced.  
Smith frowned, wondering what was going through that blond head at the moment. "Yes, we do," he said firmly. "We want to know the results, don't we?"  
Peck was silent. "I'm not sure about that, Hannibal. Maybe I don't want to know."  
Smith pressed the call button. "B.A. I'll get back to you in just a minute." He sat down next to Peck. "What's wrong, Tem? It's not like you to run away from facts."  
Face shivered, suddenly feeling cold. "Maybe not, but I haven't exactly faced these facts before."  
Smith glanced around and saw that they were fairly isolated from view by a small forest of plants. He put his arm around the tense shoulders and squeezed gently. "Yeah, I know," his voice was gentle. He rested his head against Tem's, the long strands of fair hair mingling with the short silver.   
"It's new to me, too," he sighed gently, breath gusting warmly on the lean cheek beside his. "Oh, Tem. I just wish that I could wave a magic wand, and make all this disappear...for you...for me...for all of us."  
The sadness in his lover's voice brought it home to Peck that he wasn't the only one suffering; suddenly he longed to be the comforter, and make a determined effort to brush off his fears. In fact, as always, the warmth and closeness of his lover's presence, made Face feel safe and loved, so it wasn't all pretence when he reached out to grasp Smith's free hand.   
"I know you would, Hannibal. But..." he patted the hand and sat up a little. "We have to do the best we can. So what do you want to do? You hungry?"  
Smith felt a wave of tender pride sweep through him. He knew his Lieutenant much too well, to be completely fooled by the sudden surrender. He knew there was still a lot of frustrated anger and fear, behind those sightless, but still beautiful green eyes. However, he responded to the apparent change of mood.   
"I'm always hungry for you, my love," he whispered, kissing the smooth-shaven cheek. The husky whisper and soft kiss, sending an entirely different sort of shiver through his partner's slim form.   
Peck cleared his throat, feeling the warmth of a blush spread over his face. "I didn't quite mean that, Hannibal," he hissed back, "although," he added, squeezing the strong fingers cupping his hand. "I do, very much, appreciate the sentiments - a lot. But I'll appreciate them more when we're back in our own apartment."  
Smith sighed exaggeratedly. "Spoilsport." He deliberately untangled their hands. "Okay, there is a restaurant on the fourth floor, but maybe we could take Pierce up on his offer and have room service," he said gruffly, knowing Peck wouldn't like being in a public restaurant and not being able to see his plate. "Save time, I suppose and we wouldn't have the hassle of B.A. finding a place to park."  
"Yeah, or of getting me back here. That the plan, huh Colonel?" Peck whispered into his partner's ear.  
"You guessed." Smith smiled gently, shaking his head. Seemed his Lieutenant, at times, understood him a little too well. He sobered as he asked a trifle anxiously. "Is that all right with you, Face?"  
Peck sighed. "I'm not keen on going to Pierce's apartment, but if you think it'll be okay..." He paused, then said firmly. "Sure. Might as well get it all over at once." He held up a warning finger. "But, if he asks me one more time about what I ate or drank, I'll hit him."  
"That's okay, Lieutenant, I'll hold your blazer for you." Hannibal grinned and whispered into the pink flushed ear. "Can I help you with your buttons again? You look rather sexy in that short nightie."  
"Hannibal..." warned Peck.  
Smith laughed out loud and opened the radio channel again.  
After telling B.A. their intentions and ordering him to take a break, too, Smith left Peck in his seat and went to the in-house telephones. It didn't take long for Pierce to answer and repeat his invitation to use his apartment. He intended to stay in his office and have lunch sent there, which he usually did when he was working, so they would be completely private.  
Smith thanked him for his generous and understanding offer and said he would call for the key on their way up.  
The surgeon's apartment was luxurious and tastefully furnished, but it also had a lived-in atmosphere which suited the two Team members. It made Peck relax a little as he realised it was a home and not just a place to sleep. The Colonel ordered lunch and after checking that the apartment was indeed empty, settled his Lieutenant on a comfortable settee in the dining area and described, in detail, the contents. He omitted to mention the wonderful view of the L.A. skyline, concentrating instead on the colours and textures of the furniture and fittings, until Peck was able to visualise the apartment, which in turn, made him feel less tense.   
An hour later, the two men were lying back on the large sofa, Smith’s arms wrapped securely around his younger lover. The lunch had been tasty and Smith was hungry, but watching Tem’s normally nimble fingers fumble awkwardly with the cutlery took away his enjoyment of the sumptuous spread. It was brought home to him with a vengeance just how vulnerable Face would be without him, or someone he trusted, to help him with such basic items as eating. It made him think of all the everyday things he, and every other sighted person took for granted, were no longer going to be simple. He wondered with an aching heart how his younger lover would manage if they were separated for any length of time. The few blind people he knew personally, could manage quite competently, but they had invariably been taught to manage, with experts to help them when they needed it. Being on the run from the military would make it practically impossible for Face to get that sort of help and training.  
Hannibal shook himself. Training wasn’t going to be necessary; this blindness was only temporary - Tem would get his sight back. He had to believe that, he did believe it. In the meantime, he would help Tem eat his food and guide him around any strange building; he knew that Tem had already memorised everything in his own apartment... so it was only outside that they might have problems. He refused to listen to the inner voice telling him that there was no ‘might’ about it, the problems existed, inside or out.  
Overriding his Lieutenant's protests that he wasn't tired, Smith had insisted that Peck rest for a while. Upon hearing that Smith was going to sit with him, the younger man had given in gracefully. The simple act of finding the food on his plate and transferring it to his mouth had taken a surprisingly amount of energy, and he felt angry - and weary.  
The Colonel felt the tenseness leave the slender figure and had relaxed himself. The lack of sleep, anxiety and frustration at not being able to help, beginning to catch up with him and he caught himself yawning. He stroked Peck's soft fair hair, gentling the younger man into a restful doze and was beginning to nod himself when Face spoke softly.  
"Hannibal?"  
"Yes?" So much for hoping he was asleep, sighed Hannibal.  
"If..er..when, we get the all-clear back on the results, what are we going to do about Maddox being out of jail? He’s bound to cause trouble."  
Maybe he already has, thought Smith grimly. He had noticed that since his emotional panic attack yesterday, Face seemed to have blocked out everything to do with the restaurant. Although he seemed to remember Maddox was out on bail, he hadn’t mentioned their enemy in connection with anything else. Not wanting to hassle him, Smith had left the subject alone, hoping that Face would refer to it when he was ready. Besides, after their night of passion, they’d had something far pleasanter to think about.   
“I’d like to take him apart, inch by inch,” Smith said seriously, then kissed the forehead resting against his cheek. "I don't rightly know, Tem. I'd like to handle him myself... I mean, ourselves, the Team," he added quickly, as a sharp finger dug into his ribs in protest. "I think, however, the cops will be watching him, so we'll have to tread carefully."  
Peck sighed, lifting his chin to kiss the older man on the throat. "So when did that stop us? We're always careful."  
"Yes, I know..." Smith began, but Peck interrupted.   
"I don't want to hold you and the others back, Hannibal. If you get the chance, you take that bastard down, wherever I happen to be... take him down."  
Smith sat up a little, trying to see Peck's expression. "We won't leave you, Tem, you ought to know that," he sounded hurt.  
Face sighed and his hand stole up to pat Hannibal's chest. "I do know that. I just meant that if I have to  
have some sort of treatment... y'know, in a clinic somewhere..." his voice trailed of. The prospect of being  
in a strange place and unable to see, or do anything to help himself, was terrifying.  
Smith winced inwardly, hoping that particular scenario would never happen, but he had to be positive. "Then we'll just wait until you come out of that mythical clinic - what an imagination you've got, kid." Smith held his lover's chin. "We don't go anywhere without you, Lieutenant. If, and I do say IF, you have to have some treatment, we'll be sitting right beside you. No-one is going to get near enough to hurt you while we're around."  
Peck was silent for a moment and Smith grew anxious, having a good idea of what the younger man was thinking. The Team hadn't been able to protect him from Maddox a few weeks ago; but in all fairness, that had been different. They hadn't known what they were up against and Peck had been alone when the gangster had recognised him.  
"I know we screwed up, Tem and I'm more sorry than I can ever say, about you getting hurt..." Smith's voice trembled a little, and immediately Peck sat up.  
"No, no, Hannibal. I'm not blaming you, or the others...it was just bad luck."  
"Yes, it was, but we didn't know what Maddox was like then, or I'd never have sent you in there. I'll regret that to my dying day," Smith said low-voiced.  
Peck was distressed, he hadn't meant to rake over old issues; he knew Smith would lay down his life to protect him. "Hannibal, listen, don't be sad. I didn't mean to imply anything bad about you, or the Team. I was just trying to be realistic. We know that certain things can happen to make complete protection impossible. I was just...just..." His voice quavered. "I just wanted you to know, that if you get the chance to get that bastard Maddox, you should take it... that's all."  
Smith hugged him tightly. "I know what you meant, kid, but we won't be leaving you. We'll get him, Tem... but we'll get him together. You, me, Murdock and B.A. Understood?"  
Peck put his head back onto the broad shoulder which had supported him for years, comforted and relieved. "Okay Colonel," he said softly. "Message received and understood."  
"Good." Hannibal put his shoeless feet up on a padded stool and with the younger man lying halfway across his chest, his long legs spread along the length of the couch, he settled them both comfortably. "Now, try and get some rest, I know I could do with some." He thought that if he admitted he was tired, his lover would relax, and it worked.  
"Good idea, Hannibal," said Peck, instantly contrite, "sorry if I kept you awake."  
"Tem?"  
"Yes?" The blond head lifted alertly.  
"Shut-up!"  
"Oh... yes sir... sorry, I..."  
"F a c e...." the tone warned, and Peck closed his mouth, knowing that particular tone from his first youthful meetings with Smith, right up until the present. It was one he would never, could never, argue with. Smiling a little at past memories, despite his anxieties he was asleep in a few minutes, his arm resting loosely around Smith's waist.  
Smith grinned, rubbed his chin on the soft hair, and closed his own weary eyes.  
The telephone woke him about forty minutes later and he fumbled for the phone on the table beside the couch.  
"Yeah?"  
Pierce's voice came over the line, sounding to Smith's befuddled senses, alarmingly jovial and wide awake.  
"Thought you might be interested. I'm free now."  
Smith sat up, trying not to awaken his sleeping lover, but Peck's long lashes fluttered and he yawned.  
The Colonel sighed. "Okay, Doc, we'll be down in ten minutes."  
"That'll be fine," Pierce said, and replaced his receiver.  
Peck lay against Smith's chest, unwilling to wake up properly and face his future.  
Hannibal brushed the long hair from his lover's features and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Wake up, kid."  
"No. Too sleepy, too comfortable," responded Peck, tightening his hold around Smith's waist, snuggling his head under his Colonel's chin.  
Hannibal would've been more than content to sit there with the person he loved held securely in his arms, but knew it would be just putting off the inevitable. He put his arms around the slender figure and hugged him for a long moment, then slid his hands down Face's arms until he grasped the younger man's wrists. Pulling the hands gently free of their grasp, he sat Peck upright.  
"Time to rise and shine, Lieutenant," he said quietly.  
"Y'know, Hannibal, I really hate that phrase," Peck's voice was just this side of snappish. "Murdock uses it all the time when we have to sleep in the same room, or the van."  
"Ah, but you do shine so beautifully in the morning," Hannibal coaxed.  
"It's the afternoon," grumbled Face, then swung his legs down to the floor. "Oh, what's the use, I'm awake now, might as well go down and see what the good doctor has to say."   
"That's my boy," praised Smith, getting up and hauling his partner with him.  
Hannibal guided his lover to the bathroom where Peck used the toilet facilities then washed his hands and splashed cold water over his face. Hannibal then took great pleasure in patting his second-in-command's unusually sombre features dry with a soft towel.   
Having made himself comfortable and tidy, he took a deep breath and led them both to the door.  
Peck was very quiet on the short journey in the elevator and Smith couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't get a snapped or angry retort, so, it was with rapidly beating hearts that the two veterans reentered the surgeon's office.  
Pierce greeted them courteously and waved them to their former chairs.  
"I'm afraid Maggie won't be able to make it, she had an emergency," he said, "but she said she'd ring, or call, later."  
Smith felt as though he'd lost an ally, but Face was relieved that he wouldn't have to listen to a third party, he was much too tense.  
Pierce got up from behind his desk and walked slowly around it to perch on the edge nearest to Peck and Smith.   
"Well, I've studied the test results, gentlemen," he began, "and they bear out my original thoughts." He paused, "You'll be glad to hear, Mr. Peck, that I can find nothing physically wrong with you."  
For a moment, Peck closed his eyes in relief, then frowned as he realised what the doctor was saying didn't make sense to him.   
"Nothing wrong?" His jaw dropped in amazement. "Pardon me for doubting your medical opinion, Doctor Pierce, but there's just one thing wrong with that diagnosis...I...can...not...see!" The last words were spoken with deliberate pauses between.  
"That is obvious, Lieutenant," said Pierce, pinching the bridge of his nose and Smith realised in some surprise, that the surgeon was as weary as they were.  
"Come on, Hannibal, let's get outta here, it's obvious to me, that we've come to the wrong man." Peck said, starting to rise to his feet, his face flushed with temper and sheer weariness.  
Smith put out a hand, catching his forearm. "Wait a minute, Tem," he cautioned.  
Pierce leaned forward and Smith marvelled at his patience as he kept his temper. "You are partly correct, Mr. Peck. I may be the wrong man, but this is the correct place and I do have the right man for your condition." His voice was steady and even, devoid of anger or, Smith was glad to note, pity.  
Peck hesitated, the surgeon's quiet demeanor getting through to him more than a shouted argument. As Smith pulled on his sleeve, he slowly re-seated himself.  
"Go on, Doc," Smith said. "What do you suggest we do?"   
He could hardly believe there was nothing physically wrong, not that he wanted there to be of course, but it would be a lot less complicated if there had been a definite cause, it might then, be easier to find a definite cure.  
Pierce sat back, relieved. "My brother is a specialist," he began, and Smith braced himself, knowing what his partner's reaction was likely to be.  
"What kind of specialist?" Peck asked, warily. His sixth-sense moving into top gear.  
"A psychiatrist," said Pierce, watching his fair-haired patient.  
"A...a what?" asked Peck incredulously.  
"My brother, Simon, is a qualified psychiatrist," said Pierce again.  
Face shifted in his chair, wanting to get up and stride around the room, but frustrated because he didn't know the layout of this place.  
"Let me get this straight, Doc...you want me to see your brother, Simon, who is a psychiatrist?" The forced patience in the younger man's voice was insulting. "Forgive my ignorance," his tone changed, now it was like cracking ice. "What does a psychiatrist know about being blind? I thought a shrink dealt with the head, not the eyes."

"Tem," murmured Smith, putting a hand on his Lieutenant's arm, only to have it shrugged off, Face didn't  
want to be pacified, he was furious.   
"Well, Doc?" Peck was like a strung arrow, just waiting to be released.  
Pierce sighed. He'd hoped to get through this peaceably, but that was not to be.   
"Well, Lieutenant, you are quite right. A psychiatrist does deal with the head as you so quaintly put it, and that is where I think your blindness stems from, in your mind."  
There was a short, but very pregnant silence, as Pierce's words fell into the room like stones into a pool, the ripples spreading wider and wider.  
Hannibal frowned, he didn't understand either what the doctor meant. Surely he didn't think that Peck was having a mental, or nervous breakdown, that was inconceivable.  
"I don't understand either, Doc," said Smith, forestalling another angry outburst from his Lieutenant. "You're not, I hope, suggesting that Face is putting on some sort of act?"  
"No, of course not," said Pierce. "The symptoms are real enough, I just cannot find anything physical to account for them."  
"So, you think I'm ready for the funny farm," snapped Peck, too infuriated to be reasonable.  
Pierce sighed. "No, son, I don't think that at all. Why don't we calm down and talk this over."  
"Calm down!" Peck almost spluttered. "You say there's nothing wrong with me, but I can't see, then you insinuate that I'm a nutcase, then I'm supposed to calm down and talk it over. No bloody way. I'm outta here."  
He rose from his chair and felt his way round the arm and set off in the direction of the door, or where he thought it was.  
Smith was on his feet in an instant, but Pierce caught his arm, delaying him for a split second. In that second, Face walked into one of the other chairs which were part of the office furniture. He stumbled, putting out a hand to save himself, but couldn't prevent himself from falling over the chair, landing heavily on hands and knees on the thick carpet.  
Smith angrily jerked his arm free and went to help his lover, who was trembling with shock and fury.  
Hannibal tried to lift Face to his feet, but Peck shrugged off his helping hands and turned himself round to sit on the floor, head hanging as he panted for breath.  
Pierce stood quietly, watching them for a second, as Hannibal crouched beside his partner, within reach, but not yet attempting to touch him.  
"Now, can we talk this over, please?" the surgeon suggested mildly.  
Peck looked in his direction and both older men saw the extent of his distress. He was trembling violently, his face drained of colour by the shock of his abrupt fall, his sea-green eyes were bright with tears which beaded the fringe of his long dark lashes and Hannibal's heart almost broke in sympathy.  
"I think he's had enough for today," Smith said sharply, as always protective of his junior officer. "He might have hurt himself."  
"I'm sorry," Pierce came towards them. "This carpet is pretty thick and he didn't hit his head, or any vital part." He tried to take Face's wrist to check his pulse, but it was dragged away. "I know this is tough to take in all at once, and I'm not saying that it is some sort of hysteria, but I've done all I can. The next step is to see another sort of specialist." He paused, then added. "I really do want to help you, Templeton."  
Peck was still shaking, but slowly regaining his breath; he forced back the tears of rage and humiliation, refusing to let them fall in front of the doctor, who despite his sympathetic offer of help, was still very much a stranger.  
He shook his head, not able to answer in case his voice gave away his inner turmoil.  
Smith put a hand on his Lieutenant's shoulder, lending him unspoken support.  
"I know you want to help, Doctor, but I think now isn't a good time," he stated simply.  
Pierce shrugged his shoulders, "It's up to Mr. Peck, of course, but I do think the sooner he gets the help he needs, the sooner..." His voice trailed away as the young man seated on the carpet glared upwards in the direction of his voice.  
"...the sooner he'll be able to see..." he said in a strained tone.  
"Maybe," the surgeon shrugged again. "We won't be able to tell until a course of treatment is prescribed and how well you respond to that treatment."  
"Sounds great." Peck held up an imperious hand. "Hannibal, help me up, then we're getting out of here."  
Smith grasped Peck's hands and pulled him to his feet, making sure he was steady.  
"Tem..." he ventured.  
"Now, Hannibal!"  
"Okay, kid, take it easy, we'll go."  
He turned to Pierce and shrugged eloquently, and the surgeon nodded in defeat.  
As the two team-mates turned towards the door, the radio in Smith's pocket buzzed, instantly halting them both. There was something urgent about that buzz.  
In a moment the small device was in Smith's hand. "Yes?"   
"Military in the street, Hannibal," B.A.'s voice was sharp.  
"Coming here?" Smith asked, turning to look at Pierce, who spread his hands in denial of the momentary accusation in the Colonel's eyes.  
"Can't be sure," the sergeant responded. "I don't see Lynch, might just be a coincidence."  
"Where are you?" asked Smith.  
"About two blocks from your position, Colonel. Two Army cars passed me a minute ago. Stand by."  
The three men stood frozen for the short time the radio was silent, then Baracus came back on line.  
"They're in the next block, Hannibal. Stay put till it's all clear. Baracus out."  
Smith put the radio away and turned to his partner. "You hear that, Face?"  
"Yes." The voice was clipped, as Peck put his own troubles behind him for the moment, becoming once more, Smith's efficient second-in-command.  
"You can wait in the other office, if you want," offered Pierce. "It has a connecting door, so if they do come here, for any reason," he emphasised, "you can still get out through there."  
"Whose office is it?" asked Smith, certain in his own mind.  
Pierce looked him straight in the eye. "My brother's."  
"Is he in there?" asked Peck, reminding the two older men that he could still hear them.  
Pierce glanced at his watch, "Maybe. I think he had a client due about now..."   
He moved towards the wall opposite the big window, where a Chinese decorated, screen stood and moving it slightly, showed Smith an oak door. "Hang on a second, I'll check.”   
Before Smith could either agree or not, the tall surgeon turned the handle and disappeared into the room, the door closing silently on well oiled hinges behind him.  
Smith grasped Face by the arm with one hand, the other holding the butt of his Smith & Wesson, then stood waiting for Pierce to reappear, or whatever else might come.   
If that guy has betrayed us, I'll never be able to trust my instincts again, thought Hannibal grimly.  
They didn't have long to wait, as in a very few moments, Pierce was back. "Simon is in his office, but he's alone. The client hasn't arrived yet. Do you want to wait in there, just in case someone has spotted you coming into my office?"  
Smith hesitated, looking hard at Pierce, then nodded. "Don't see as we have much of a choice, Doc."  
"I'll buzz through to Simon, if you have to leave in a hurry, okay?"  
Again the Colonel nodded. "Come on, Face, let's go."  
Peck hung back a moment. "This isn't some far-fetched plan of yours, is it Doctor?" His face was set, "Because if it is, it won't work."  
"Don't be an idiot, Templeton," Pierce's patience was beginning to wear a little thin in places, which curiously enough, made Peck feel more at ease. "I only advise my patients what I think is best for them, I can't, and wouldn't even try, to force them."  
"Come on, Tem," Hannibal urged his partner towards the door behind the screen, nodding to Pierce as he went. "Thanks, Doctor."  
Pierce waved a hand, "My pleasure," he said ironically and went to sit behind his desk. Opening some folders, he started to read the contents.  
Hannibal moved cautiously into the other room, finding it to be as large and expensively furnished as the one they had just quitted.  
Peering round the edge of another screen, similar to the one in Pierce's office, he saw a man sitting behind a desk, facing them.   
"Come in, gentlemen," the man said pleasantly.  
Smith edged further inside the room, drawing his lover after him, before turning to make sure the door was closed and locked.  
"Stay there, Tem," Smith said quietly, as he moved further into the room to make a quick inspection.   
"Excuse me," he said to the man at the desk, as he moved swiftly across the dark blue carpet to a door in the side wall, and checked that the room behind was empty. Satisfied for the moment, that there wasn't any nasty surprises waiting for them, he came back to his Lieutenant, who was still standing tensely where he'd left him. Smith re-holstered the gun which he'd held firmly in his hand as he'd made the check, not worried by any qualms the rightful occupant might have about an armed man in his private rooms. The Colonel wasn't about to be caught napping, no matter how friendly the welcome.  
"Okay," he said, leading his partner further into the room.   
Spying a comfortable looking chair, he deposited the younger man there, before turning to the man still sitting calmly behind his desk, watching their every move.   
"Sorry about that...er Simon, is it?"  
The man nodded. "Yes, and you will be the legendary Colonel Smith of the A-Team." It sounded sarcastic at first, but the smile that broke over the sitting man's face, robbed the statement of any malice.  
Smith grinned irrepressibly. "That is true."  
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Colonel. I've heard a lot of stories about you and your men in 'Nam, and I'm more than glad to see that none seem to be exaggerated."  
Hannibal moved over to the desk, holding out his hand, while studying the other man.  
Simon Pierce was heavier than his brother, with wide shoulders and a barrel of a chest. He had the same grey eyes as Stephen and his hair was also streaked with grey, some of it almost white. His hand was large and had a firm grip, as he leaned forward to take the Colonel's offered handshake.  
Smith had a moment of sheer shock as he realised that the chair in which Simon was sitting, was a wheelchair.  
He managed to mask his astonishment, but his blue eyes were enquiring as he clasped the psychiatrist's hand.  
Pierce gave a shrug. "Fragment of mortar shell," he said matter-of-factly. "I was lucky, four of my friends were killed outright."  
"I'm sorry," said Smith, knowing how inadequate the words were.  
"It happens in war, Colonel." There was no self-pity in the deep voice, he was stating a fact. "Now, can I help you?" he went on.  
Smith hesitated, but before he could reply, Peck's cool voice broke into the conversation.  
"No, thank you," he said politely. He had been sitting quietly, knowing what Hannibal would be doing and waiting for his Colonel's next move. It was becoming all too clear to him, that outside the security of his own apartment, he was well-nigh helpless without Hannibal.   
He'd heard the words between the two older men, but didn't understand exactly what was wrong, but he wasn't about to be coerced into talking to a shrink, no matter how good he was supposed to be.  
"Oh?" Simon raised an eyebrow at Smith, who shrugged helplessly, knowing how stubborn his Lieutenant could be at times.  
"Is that Lieutenant Templeton Peck speaking?" The psychiatrist asked smoothly.  
"Yes," said Peck shortly, then added curiously. "What did you mean, it happens in war?"  
"Tem," murmured Smith, not wanting to precipitate an argument, but not wanting Peck to say anything he'd regret later.  
"That's okay, Colonel Smith. The young man has a right to know to whom he is talking." He turned and expertly moved his chair over to where Peck was sitting on the edge of his seat, trying to appear at ease, but the fingers of his clasped hands were white knuckled with tension.  
The chair had moved silently and Peck jumped as the voice spoke close beside him. "I was hit by some shrapnel. It severed my spinal cord, I can't walk."  
"Oh!" Peck's face flushed crimson with embarrassment and anger - mostly at himself. "I'm... I'm sorry," he stuttered, "I didn't know... didn't understand..." He stopped, realising he was just digging himself deeper into the mire.   
"How could you know? I don't think you're clairvoyant, and you can't see, can you?"  
Peck shrank a little into his seat at the matter-of-fact tone, that somehow seemed also to challenge him.  
"Well, can you?" repeated Pierce.  
"No" Peck said in a low voice.  
"What's that? Can't hear you."  
"I said NO," cried Peck, stumbling to his feet.   
"That's better, I heard you then," Simon said, his tone quieter.  
Peck swung round, trying to get his bearings, but events had happened so quickly, he couldn't remember where the doorway was, and Hannibal wasn't beside him.  
"Hannibal," he called, putting out a hand and taking a step forward, only to fall across Pierce's lap as he turned right into the wheelchair.

The man's strong arms stopped him from falling to the floor, and for a brief moment, they held him safe  
and secure.  
"It's okay, son, I've got you," the older man murmured, as Peck struggled to find his balance.  
"Let me up," cried Tem, embarrassed and angry.  
"Right, just let me help..."  
"I don't want you to help me, don't need it," cried Peck, trying not to panic. "Hannibal," he called urgently.  
Smith was beside the pair in a second, leaning over them to lift his lover onto his feet.  
He exchanged a look with Pierce, glad to see that the psychiatrist hadn't turned a hair at Peck's outburst.  
The wheelchair-bound man merely shook his head at Smith, which made the Colonel swallow the words of apology he'd been about to utter on his younger companion's behalf.  
Peck was shaking like a leaf, holding onto Hannibal with a vice-like grip.  
"So, you don't need my help, eh?" Simon probed.  
"No!" said Peck shortly, still hanging onto his partner.  
"Hm, I wonder."  
"What'd you mean by that?" snapped Peck, fighting to regain his composure. This man was rattling him, and he didn't understand why. He'd called him son, which didn't set too well with Peck, as he couldn't remember his own father, or mother, for that matter, but surely that couldn't be the only reason.   
Hannibal could have told him why. Pierce wasn't acting as either of them expected a psychiatrist to act. He was constantly challenging Peck, not sympathising, or treating him with kid gloves.  
"Well, I may be crippled, but I can move around a room without tripping over the furniture - or anything else." Simon said calmly.  
"Well, I can probably move around my own apartment without help, once I get to learn where the furniture is..." retorted Peck, his chin coming up as he sensed a battle was imminent.  
"Why should you want to do that?" asked Pierce.  
"Why?" Peck's smooth forehead creased into a frown, "What'd you mean, why? I want to be as little trouble as possible." He clutched Smith's arm tighter, wondering why his Colonel was so uncharacteristically quiet.  
"Oh, that's why." The psychiatrist paused for a moment, glancing at Smith, then went on. "Wouldn't you rather be able to see where you're going?"  
Peck's mouth opened in surprise, "Well, of course, I would. What the hell are you talkin' about?" He pulled on Smith's arm. "Hannibal, can't we go yet? This guy is talking in riddles."  
"Not yet, Tem, have to get the all-clear from B.A."  
"Then I’ll make it plain, Lieutenant." Pierce went on as though Smith hadn't spoken. "From the way you are resisting all help, it seems as though you don't really want to see. Why is that, I wonder? Is there something out there you can't, or won't, face up too? You want the Colonel here to guide every step you take from now on?" He paused then added. "Not much of a life for either of you, is it?"  
Peck's face drained of colour, and he gasped in horror. "No... no, of course not, what're you saying? That's a terrible thing for you to suggest. Hannibal, you don't think that? You don’t... do you?"  
"Of course not, Tem." Smith glared at Pierce, thinking that the psychiatrist had gone too far. "Look here, mister..." he began, but Pierce shook his head.   
"Don't agree with him, Colonel, or he'll be just as much of a cripple as I am, only worse."   
The beginnings of a right royal row were interrupted by the buzz of the two-way radio in Smith's pocket.  
Freeing one hand from Peck's grip, Smith thumbed the button. "Yeah, B.A.?"  
"Hannibal, the military are leaving the building, want me to swing by and pick you up?"  
Smith hesitated, but Peck leaned forward and said swiftly. "Yes, B.A. come and get us... five minutes."  
"Hannibal? That okay?" asked B.A. worriedly, hearing the tension in the Lieutenant's voice.  
Smith gazed at the psychiatrist who was watching him, then looked at the sea-green eyes, dark with apprehension, and knew he didn't have a choice at that moment. "That's okay, B.A. See you in five minutes...South Street exit."  
He turned to the psychiatrist and shrugged. "Sorry, Doc... but he needs a break."  
Pierce sighed and ran a hand through his thick, greying hair, a gesture which reminded Hannibal of Face doing exactly the same thing when he was in a thoughtful - or frustrated, mood.  
"Right, Colonel. Call me when you - and the Lieutenant, are ready."  
Hannibal nodded silently in agreement, and turned his partner towards the door, keeping a firm grip on the blue-clad elbow.  
Smith could feel the shaking of his lieutenant’s whole body as they slowly left the office, and he was divided between keeping an eye out for any danger, and anxiously watching his Lieutenant's face. The designer sunglasses which Face had taken from his breast pocket, shaded his sightless eyes, hiding any expression, but Smith could feel the tension and residue of anger radiating from the slim body beside him. The normally healthy tan of his lover's fair skin was shaded by two angry red spots of colour on each high cheekbone, providing ample evidence of Peck's inner turmoil.   
As they reached the elevators and waited for the car to arrive, Peck gave a huge sigh and shivered.   
"You okay, Tem?" asked Hannibal in a low voice.  
The fair head gave a terse nod and Smith had to be content with that as the doors to the elevator rolled apart to disgorge four people, who, in the way of most inhabitants of big cities, didn't bother looking at the two waiting men.  
The Colonel guided Face into the elevator and they stood at the back, Hannibal's hand still unobtrusively on Peck's elbow, while the car made it's seemingly interminable way to the ground floor.  
As the doors swung apart, a number of people surged forward, almost forcing the occupants of the lift back into it again.   
"Excuse me," said Smith sternly, "Mind letting us out first."   
He felt Face flinch as the crowd pushed him hard against the wall and he clutched at Hannibal's arm in panic, feeling the strong hand pat his, reassuringly.  
Grudgingly the crowd parted to allow Smith, Peck and the rest of the passengers out into the lobby.  
"Disgraceful," cried one matronly lady. "People have no manners any more."  
"Yes, Ma'am," agreed Smith politely, holding onto his partner's arm and trying to ease them away from the crowd.  
Spotting an exit sign leading to South Street, he guided Peck in that direction.  
Glancing round, Smith couldn't see any sign of cops, uniformed or otherwise and gave a sigh of relief as the automatic doors onto the sidewalk hove into view.  
"Nearly there, Tem," he murmured, looking at his partner.  
Peck's lower lip was caught between his even teeth, his cheeks almost bloodless, and Smith realised with some surprise that his second-in-command was scared, or in pain.  
His attention distracted for a moment, they almost walked into a young couple hurrying in the opposite direction.  
Only a fast bit of footwork on the part of both Smith and the teenaged boy, saved an embarrassing collision, and the girl flashed an apologetic smile at the two adults, before her boyfriend hurried her away.   
Peck had come to a complete stop, his feet refusing to move forward.   
Mindful of any one watching them, Smith slung a casual arm over his shoulders,. "What's wrong, Tem?" he asked quietly.  
Peck shuddered, then seemed to dredge up some control from somewhere deep inside. "I'm okay," he said hoarsely. "Get us out of here, please."  
"We're almost there...just a few more yards..." coaxed Smith, starting them off again.  
He had never been so pleased to see the solid shape of B.A.'s van waiting at the kerb, blatantly ignoring a No Parking sign.  
It took only a few moments for Smith to help his Lieutenant across the sidewalk and into the back of the van, feeling the tension still riding his partner's slim body.  
"Get going, B.A." Smith said, shutting his passenger door, then turned towards where Peck was sitting in his usual seat behind him, his hands clasped tightly on both knees to stop their shaking.  
Smith reached out a long arm and put his hand on Peck's, patting it gently. Face flinched, then shook his head, knowing the touch of that strong hand. "Sorry, Hannibal, don't know what the hell is wrong with me."  
B.A. looked in the rear view mirror, watching his blond friend worriedly. "That sucker do anythin' to upset you, Face?"  
Peck shook his head, reaching up to take off his sunglasses.  
"'Cos if he has..." threatened the big sergeant grimly.  
Face gave a strained smile. "Thanks Big Guy, but he didn't really say anything that wasn't true... but I don't want to talk about it...if...if you don't mind."  
Baracus shrugged, exchanging a look with Smith, who shook his head in silent warning.  
"Where you wanta go?" B.A. asked.  
"Back to the apartment," said Smith. "That okay with you, Tem?"  
"Sure...that's fine." Peck sat back in the seat and closed his burning eyes. He wanted to yell and kick against the sheer unfairness of the fate that had left him as helpless as a baby - and just as vulnerable.  
He hadn't felt this scared since his time in the jungles of 'Nam where every leaf of every tree had held a threat. There, at least, he had been able to see where he was going, avoid the traps left by a cunning enemy, and fight back when attacked. Now, in this jungle of concrete and metal, he couldn't see where the threat, if any, was coming from; so every sound, every rustle of movement, the accidental touch of a stranger's hand, threatened him.  
That damn psychiatrist had been right about one thing, though, he couldn't let Hannibal go on looking after him like this... it wasn't fair on the Colonel. He knew that Smith would never complain, or ever leave him, that was the one solid, constant thing in his entire existence. His macho Colonel, with the ice-blue eyes and white-toothed smile, loved him without question and would never voluntarily leave him.  
The question is, Face thought despondently, can I leave him? Go away until he could see again, get some other advice, find a cure for this awful darkness that surrounded him. Peck heaved a faint sigh, he didn't know whether he had the strength to do that.   
He contemplated how bleak a future would be, without the vibrant presence of Hannibal beside him. These past few, terrible, weeks, he had again become very dependant upon Smith to help him through the nightmares; the memories that would insist on tormenting him even though he was doing his best to forget and get on with his life. He'd really thought he was going to crack this thing, put the attack and rape behind him. He didn't think it would be possible to really forget what had happened, but he was getting to the stage where he could live with it - with Hannibal's love and help, and the true, unconditional friendship given to him by Murdock and B.A.  
He became aware of the van picking up speed and heard the sound of approaching sirens, becoming louder, then fading, as B.A. put his foot hard down on the gas.  
"What?" he gasped.  
"Sit tight, Face...cops coming up behind us." Smith's voice was calm, and Peck could just imagine his Colonel sitting there, a cigar stuck between his teeth, smiling that tigerish grin, which to anyone who knew him meant he was on the jazz.  
Peck hung onto his seat with clammy hands, knowing that if they had to run he would be a dreadful handicap to his friends.  
"How close?" he asked, his heart hammering.  
"We're okay, man," growled B.A. his dark gaze alternating between the road ahead and the rear view mirror, in which three sets of red flashing lights could be seen rounding a bend in the road.  
Smith's grin became wider, as the tide of adrenalin surged through him. "Take that first right, B.A." he directed, "we'll lose 'em in the back alleys."  
"Okay, man..." B.A. swung the wheel at the last moment, making the leading police car overshoot the opening and screech to a halt, the following car narrowly missing it.   
The third car followed them, however, and as soon as the other two drivers sorted themselves out, they too were in hot pursuit.  
"Just like old times, huh, Face?" Hannibal said jauntily.  
"Oh, yeah...exactly like," said Peck, trying hard to sound jovial.  
The chase went on for another fifteen minutes, with B.A. using all his skill to avoid other vehicles on the road, and shake the police cars.   
It couldn't last at this speed, and B.A. swore under his breath as an old, beat-up sedan came out from a side turning directly in his path. With amazing control, the sergeant swerved round the front of it, almost giving the teenage driver a heart attack as the big van almost stood on its side as it swung in front of him, then righted itself and roared off down a side street.   
Flustered, and scared half out of his wits, the young driver stopped right in the middle of the road, making the oncoming police cars screech to an abrupt, tyre scorching halt, the sound of metal crunching on metal as the third car couldn't stop in time and ran into the second one, their bumpers meshing together in a tangle of chrome.  
The air turned blue with invective directed at the hapless young driver as the cops gave vent to their frustration. Not only did the youth get a lesson in driving, he also learned some new swear words, which he stored up, almost unconsciously, in his mind for later use.   
Two miles down the road, Hannibal laughed and patted B.A. on the back. "Well done, Sergeant. Nice bit of driving."  
"Yeah man...but that was close," B.A. retorted. "I wonder how they made us?" he added.  
Smith shrugged, lighting the cigar he'd had clenched in his teeth. "Probably just a lucky shot for them."  
"You don't think..." began Baracus, looking sideways at his leader.  
The silver head shook a negative. "No, B.A. I'd bet my last cigar that Doc Pierce had nothing to do with this little caper."  
"If you say so, Hann'bal."  
Smith turned his attention to the rear seat. "You okay, Tem?" he asked, worried that the younger man hadn't spoken yet.  
"Oh, I'm just peachy," was the shaky, but sardonic reply.  
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, exactly," Smith began, hoping to lighten the strained features of his lover a little. "I'd say more creamy with a touch of pink, myself."  
Peck flushed a deep scarlet, and Smith realised too late, that his remark could be taken as extremely intimate, so hastily changed the subject.  
"Where are we, B.A?"  
"I've no idea, man...somewhere downtown...I didn't get no chance to choose a direction," he added with a rare grin.  
"Well, see if you can find out and get us home, right?"  
"Right you are, Hannibal." He turned his dark gaze to the rear again. "You doin' okay Lieutenant?"  
"Not really, B.A. I think I'm gonna be sick..." Peck's voice was faint, and he looked pale and shaken. It hadn't been an easy ride for him. The speed of the van had tossed him from side to side, the sirens hurting his sensitive ears, and not being able to see what was going on had made him feel even more helpless. He felt dizzy and distinctly nauseous.  
"Pull over when you can, B.A." Smith said as calmly as he could, but he looked worried.  
Checking behind for any sign of pursuit, or interest in them, B.A. slowed down and a few moments later, pulled into a parking space at the kerb.  
Smith moved through to the rear of the van and rummaging in one of the small lockers where they kept emergency supplies, soon had a bottle of mineral water in his hand.  
He opened the top and sat beside Peck. "Here you are, Tem, drink this, make you feel a bit better." He put the bottle in the younger man's hand.  
Face took the bottle gratefully and managed to take a deep swallow without spilling any of it, which small triumph seemed to steady him a little. He put the glass against his brow, leaning back against the headrest, savouring the damp coolness on his sweating skin.  
Smith's hand brushed damp strands of hair off his brow, "Feel any better, kid?" he asked anxiously.  
"A little," Peck nodded.  
"Still feel sick?"  
The blond head gave a slow shake. "Not so much... just give me a minute."  
"We can give you two," joked Hannibal. "Eh B.A?"  
"All the time you want, man," Baracus grunted.  
The three men sat in fairly comfortable silence for another five minutes, the unspoken support from both his friends, easing Peck's troubled mind.  
He sat up straight, settling himself in his seat. "Okay, we can go on now, I feel better."  
Hannibal eyed him cautiously, and with an inner sigh of relief saw that his young partner did look better. A little colour had crept back to the lean cheeks and his voice was stronger.  
"You want to go back to the apartment?"  
Baracus put in. "You sure that'll be safe, Hannibal? Maybe the military will be waiting for us."  
Smith shook his head, rubbing a hand through his short silver hair. "I don't think so, B.A. I think that those cops just got lucky and spotted the van on the street. Besides us, only Maggie knows where the apartment is...and I think you know we can trust her."  
He thought for a second. "Still, we can check before we go in."  
"Okay...Colonel...you're the Boss."  
"Face?" asked Hannibal, as usual checking with his Lieutenant.  
"Sure, Hannibal, whatever you think best."   
Smith didn't like the listless quality in Peck's voice, but decided not to press the point just yet.  
"Right then...Home James," he waved an expansive hand at Baracus, who shook his head at him, but started up the van and pulled carefully away from the kerb.  
The ride back uptown was a lot smoother and Face began to relax a little, although he still held the edge of his seat when they turned a corner, but with B.A. taking care not to make any sudden moves, he managed to stay calm. He was hoping that the apartment would be clear of any danger, as he was longing just to sit down in his own armchair and forget, or try to forget, the hassles of the day.   
The voices of both the Pierce brothers kept ringing through his brain. One insisting that there was nothing physically wrong with him, for which Face was thankful, but - he couldn't help the nagging thought that maybe the surgeon had missed something, something small and terrible. On the other hand, every conceivable test that could be done, had been done, and nothing had shown up.   
Then, of course, there was that smart-mouthed psychiatrist telling him that it was all in his mind, or at least that was what it came down too. Did the idiot think he enjoyed being blind? It was ridiculous, he didn't need counselling, he and the Team had managed for all these years without a shrink - apart from Murdock, of course. At times, he suspected that the pilot played up his symptoms and many personas to annoy his doctors, gave them something to think about.   
Not all the time, a small voice nagged at his conscience. Murdock had been very ill in the years just after the war.  
Peck rubbed his brow, his thoughts whirling in a kaleidoscope of colours and sensations; what should he do?  
The thought again intruded. Should he leave Hannibal and try to find another place until this condition wore off? He had to believe it was just temporary, or he'd go mad.  
That would give his Colonel some breathing space and allow him a little time for his own life.   
That's what he should do...  
The decision, such as it was, should have given him some relief, but it just depressed him even further.  
My life belongs to him, Face thought bleakly. How would I manage without him - I love him.  
Selfish, selfish...Hannibal deserves better than to be hampered by a blind man - one half of him jeered.  
He loves me too, he said so...he wouldn't let me leave, protested the other half.  
Any excuse...any excuse. You're a coward, Peck, always have been where Hannibal is concerned. You're afraid he'll find somebody better; better looking, better tempered...better at sex...  
"Shut up!" cried Peck, starting upright.  
"Pardon?" Startled, Smith swung round. "What'd you say, kid?"  
Peck realised that the conversation had only been in his mind and gave a relieved, though sheepish smile. "Sorry, Hannibal, must have dozed off for a minute."  
"You sure? You having a bit of a nightmare?" the older man asked compassionately.  
"Yeah...I'm okay...really," said Peck, giving one of his best scamming smiles.  
Only half believing him, Hannibal patted him on the knee and turned back to watch the road, his thoughts churning with possibilities. Smith was sure that his Lieutenant was thinking of some action that he knew his commander wouldn't approve of. He hadn't been leader, friend and lover all these years without knowing when something was disturbing Peck, but he'd find out eventually, one way or the other.  
It wasn't long before B.A. pulled into the basement garage under his companions' apartment block. He and Smith scanned the area quickly and efficiently. "Want me to go up and check, Hannibal?" asked Baracus.  
Smith hesitated. He didn't want to leave Peck on his own, and on the off-chance that the cops were waiting for them, B.A. would be better able to take care of himself than the Lieutenant left alone in the van. In the worst case scenario, and B.A. was captured, he'd have a better chance of escape if Smith were free to get him out.  
Decision made, he slapped the heavily muscled shoulder. "Right B.A. Take it easy, if anything at all is out of shape...come straight back. Okay?"  
"Yessir, Colonel," B.A. gave one of his usual scowls. "Be back in a minute," and with that, he was gone.  
It always amazed Smith how silently such a big man could move, but he'd been glad of that on more than one occasion.  
"Don't you want to go with him, Hannibal?" asked Peck.  
"No, he'll be fine. I'm not really expecting any trouble. It's just a precaution."  
"You mean, you can't leave me by myself," said Face bitterly.  
Smith swung round in his seat. "No, I don't mean that at all," he lied expertly. "You'd be okay sitting in the van, wouldn't you?"  
"I suppose..." admitted Peck, wanting to believe that he was wrong.  
"Right then, let's have no more of that kind of talk."  
There was silence.   
"Okay, Lieutenant?" insisted Smith.  
"Okay, Colonel," was the very quiet reply.

A long fifteen minutes later, Baracus materialised beside the van, climbed in and sat down in his seat.  
"Everything A-okay, Colonel. No sign of any trouble."  
"The signal still intact?" Hannibal asked, referring to the simple way he used to make sure the door hadn't been carefully unlocked and locked up again.   
"Yep. The hair was still across the crack in the door, hadn't been touched."  
"Good."  
"I checked round the other floors too, Hannibal. No nosey neighbours, everything seemed normal - and felt normal."  
"Okay then, let's all go up and have a drink and a bite to eat."  
"Not me, Hannibal, I've gotta get back to the Day Centre, there's a couple of the kids I have to see."  
"Those two you been having trouble with?" asked Smith.  
"Yeah, but they're coming along."  
"Okay B.A. Good luck with the kids...and keep a watch out."  
"I'll be careful, Hannibal. You take care of yourself, and Faceman."   
He got out again to open the side door to let his fair-haired friend out, holding him firmly by the elbow. "You feel okay now, Face?" he asked.  
"Not bad, B.A. Take care, won't you?"  
"Always do..." was the gruff reply.  
Peck felt the large hand pat his shoulder with surprising gentleness, then, his Colonel at his side again, they walked towards the elevator.   
Baracus watched his Team mates until the doors closed behind them, before driving off.  
As the car ascended to the right level, the two men were quiet, each busy with their own thoughts, the silence lasting until they reached their door.  
Checking again to see if the simple but effective signal hair was still in place, Hannibal opened the door and ushered his partner inside.  
Closing and locking the door securely behind them, he steered Face over to his favourite chair and deposited him safely in its comfortable embrace.  
"Want a drink?" he asked casually, taking off his jacket, and tossing it in the general direction of the couch.  
"Yeah, thanks, coffee will be fine..." Face said, shedding his blazer, and, despite not being able to see what he was doing, folded it neatly.  
Taking the blue garment from his companion, Smith hesitated in the act of throwing it after his own as Peck said. "Hang it up...don't toss it."  
Hannibal grinned and went to hang up the garment in its rightful place.   
"I'm hungry...you want anything?" Hannibal asked, on his way into the kitchen.  
"No....but don't let me stop you," said Peck, closing his eyes.  
"Now, when have I ever let you stop me from eating," teased Hannibal, trying for a lighter conversation.  
Peck didn't answer immediately, he was quiet for so long that Hannibal paused in spooning the coffee into the percolator.  
"Do I stop you from doing things, Hannibal? Anything?" Face asked suddenly.  
Smith finished his task and switched on the appliance, then came out into the lounge again and knelt down beside his partner.  
"Not really, kid. We sort of do things together, don't we? Like combined operations. I like that." He paused, then added slowly, "If you didn't really want me to do something, I suppose I wouldn't do it."  
Peck didn't reply, and Hannibal took his hands. "What brought this on, Tem? You want me to stop doing something?" A sudden terrible idea struck Smith. "You don't like something when we're making love?" he asked in alarm.  
The fair head shook a negative.  
"You sure? Because all you have to do is tell me. I wouldn't do anything you didn't like." Smith's tone was becoming anxious, his hands tightening a little around the cold fingers in his grasp. He didn't like where this particular conversation was heading.  
Peck shook his head again, "I know you wouldn't."  
Smith was relieved, there was no hesitation in that reply.  
"What'd you think you're stopping me from doing? Or is it something I'm stopping you from doing? I wouldn't like to restrict you in any way."  
As he waited for Peck to answer him, Hannibal sat back on his heels so he could see the younger man more easily. Peck's eyes were looking down, as though he could see the hands stroking his own. His silky hair hung like a broad gold ribbon over his forehead and his long, thick lashes cast dark shadows on his sun-kissed cheeks. The sensitive lips of his normally smiling mouth, drooped in a vulnerable curve, and Hannibal wanted to urgently kiss that sensual mouth, taste the sweetness that always welcomed him, and make it smile again with all its charming beauty.   
Hannibal smiled to himself at his poetic thoughts, knowing he was biased, some might say besotted, with the younger man sitting so quietly before him. Even so, as Face took in a deeper breath, Smith wondered, not for the first time, how so much beauty could exist in one human being.   
When his partner still didn't reply, Hannibal asked gently. "Tem? What's wrong? You want to talk about what's bothering you?"  
Face lifted his head and Smith could see the emotional storm in his pale features and trembling lips, but he couldn't, or wouldn't, speak.  
Without saying another word, Hannibal leaned forward and took the younger man into his arms, feeling the slender body quivering violently. He rocked Peck gently in his arms, making soothing noises, and planting little kisses over his face and hair.  
Tem buried his head in Smith's shoulder, feeling the strength of the arms holding him and the body supporting him. Not only did Hannibal give him physical comfort, but the loving tenderness that radiated from his larger body into the slighter one of his lover, nourished Peck's inner soul and the need he also had for that kind of caring.  
"I love you, Hannibal," he sighed. "I don't want to hold you back, or give you any extra burdens..." he confessed, feeling a complete coward for verbalising his fears.  
"Hey, hey, what burdens?" Hannibal said. "We're part of a Team remember, we share everything, the good times and the not-so-good." He kissed Face on the brow. "We'll beat this thing too, Tem, never doubt that - not for a second."  
He put a finger under Peck's chin and raised his downcast face. "You hear me, Lieutenant?"  
The sea-green eyes were wet with the emotional upheaval that Peck was going through, but they could still make Smith's heart beat faster.  
"I hear you, Hannibal, and I know you'll do your best to help me... but..." He sighed. "Until we deal with these..." he indicated his eyes, "I'm just a liability to everyone."  
Hannibal hugged him tighter. "You'll never be a liability to me, Tem. We've been through far too much to allow anything to split us apart." His voice hardened. "I won't let anything, or anyone, separate us."  
He urged Peck to slip from the chair until they were kneeling chest to chest on the floor. Tipping Peck's face upward, Hannibal kissed him hard, almost savagely, his tongue delving deeply between the even teeth into the warm dampness of Face's welcoming mouth. Face sighed, then surrendered eagerly to his lover's demanding embrace, his own arms slipping around Hannibal's muscular chest to hug him hard in return.   
Almost on the point of breathlessness, Smith reluctantly released his lover's sensual lips, and crushed the slighter body to his, his hands roving over Peck's back and hips, feeling every bone and sinew through the thin material of his shirt, wishing there weren't so many clothes separating his skin from that of his partner.   
As Smith's lips left his, Face felt himself crushed against the strong chest, hearing his lover's heart thudding rapidly as the storm of emotion overrode his Colonel's normal self-control, loving the feel of those strong hands touching him.  
"I won't let some harebrained idea of yours that you're a burden, separate us, either. You don't get rid of me so easily. You hear me, Templeton?"  
Peck sighed, his fears and worries submerged for a brief time in Smith's forceful embrace. Maybe things would work out for them, after all.  
"Yes, Hannibal."  
"Good!" Smith gave an inward sigh of relief, knowing he'd won for the moment.  
He eased Peck flat onto the thick-piled carpet and lay beside him, one hand roaming over his chest, idly unbuttoning the tiny buttons on the white shirt, so he could slip his fingers inside and stroke the smooth skin of his lover's chest.  
Face murmured lazily, "Sneaky move, Colonel," then gasped as the strong fingers found his right nipple and teased it. "Hey, thought you were hungry?"  
"I am," murmured Hannibal, bending down to lick the tiny bud, "...for you."  
Face arched his back, loving the touch of his Colonel's hot and eager tongue, then gave a soft gasp of protest as it left him, which turned into a sigh of contentment as the searching tip returned to his other side, with an even more scorching caress.  
His hands found Hannibal's shoulders and traced their way to his head, holding it firmly to his chest, stroking the short silver hair at the back of his lover's neck, as Hannibal kissed and nuzzled at his nipples, until the small soft buds hardened and bloomed to peaks of desire.  
Electric shocks were coursing through Hannibal's body, every one targeted to his groin. As his hands pushed the shirt further off the gold-skinned shoulders, his avid mouth continued up over the smooth planes of Face's chest, kissing his way to the base of his throat, until it closed once more over his lover's eager lips.  
By now, Hannibal's blood was on fire, and he was hazily debating whether he had the control to pick them both up off the floor and into the bedroom, when the mood was shattered by the strident ringing of the telephone.  
"SHIT!"   
"DAMN!"  
It was a toss-up which of the two panting men sounded the most frustrated.  
Hannibal was on his hands and knees astride his lover's sprawled body, and as he looked down at Tem's flushed face, dishevelled hair, and the quick rise and fall of his bare torso, telling of his arousal, he felt an unexpected surge of tenderness replace his recent lust. Face looked both angry and lost, his arms reaching up to clutch around Smith's shoulders, one hand on the older man's damp chest.  
"Let the damn thing ring," he whispered hoarsely, wanting his Colonel to continue with his lovemaking.   
Smith didn't need any encouragement and leant down to bestow another scorching kiss on those tempting lips, but as the bell continued to ring, he swore under his breath and kissed Tem on the nose.  
"I'd better answer, it could be trouble."  
Peck cursed and rolled onto his side, drawing his long legs up as he curled away, letting Hannibal stand up.  
Smith hesitated, not wanting his lover to feel rejected, but the mood was broken now, and he reached out to pick up the receiver.  
"Yes?" he said abruptly.  
"Oh, Hannibal... it's Maggie."  
Smith closed his eyes. Oh Boy! No disrespect to Maggie, but she was the last person he needed to talk to right now.  
"You there, Hannibal?" Her voice sounded agitated.  
"Yes, I'm here. What can I do for you?" Smith asked as pleasantly as he could, tossing a glance at his still recumbent partner, wondering if Tem could hear the caller.  
"Is everything all right? I've been ringing for the past hour."  
"Oh, yes, we had a little trouble. Three police cars spotted the van, but we lost 'em. I hope."  
"Is Face okay?" She paused. "Stephen said he got upset."  
"Yes, afraid he did, but we're all right for the moment. We were just about to get something to eat."  
Smith looked down at his Lieutenant, who having got rid of his shirt, had changed position and was now lying flat on his back, white-clad legs spread apart, bare arms behind his head. A slight smile curved his lips at his Colonel's words, no doubt recalling that he had been on Smith's personal menu.  
"Oh, good." The relief in Maggie's voice was palpable and Smith felt a tiny twinge of conscience at worrying her, although the way events had transpired, that couldn't really have been avoided.  
"I'm sorry you were worried, Maggie, but we're both okay for now." The Colonel went on, having to turn his back as Face licked his kiss-swollen lips and laid a hand on his belt, fiddling with the buckle. Smith's face was quite flushed and he was glad that neither Maggie, nor Tem, could see how aroused he was becoming.  
Little tease, he thought to himself, feeling sheepish at how quickly Face could get him aroused again. Nevertheless, he was glad that Face was behaving as he might have done a few months back, when neither of them had had a care in the world.  
"No problem, Colonel, goes with the territory," replied the doctor. "Have you decided on a course of treatment, yet?" She asked, a trifle hesitantly, remembering her earlier visit.  
"No," said Smith. "It's not a good time to talk about that, if you don't mind. But I'll get back to you when we decide what to do. Okay?"  
"Right, Hannibal," She was disappointed, but fairly philosophical about it, knowing the members of the Team, she understood.  
"I'll call round later if I can, or tomorrow."  
"That's fine. Thanks again, Maggie. Bye for now..."  
"Bye, Hannibal," and the good doctor rang off, relieved that they were safe, but concerned about what Pierce had told her. She knew how stubborn Peck could be, and that no amount of pushing would make him change his mind. The one person who could persuade him otherwise, was with him right now, and she was putting her money on Colonel John Hannibal Smith.  
"That was Maggie," said Hannibal, turning back to Face.  
"I guessed," murmured the Lieutenant. His voice took on a low, husky tone that had Hannibal on fire again. "Why don't you switch on the answer-phone and come back here, that's if you can remember where you left off, of course."  
The gentle sarcasm told Hannibal he was forgiven - this time, but not to push his luck. Normally, if Face had been one hundred percent fit, Hannibal would have pretended to lose his place in the scheme of things, which would have been the signal for a spot of verbal (and physical) wrestling, with the inevitable, but highly enjoyable, finale in bed. With his lover's emotions and moods as fragile as they were now, however, Smith decided not to risk it. Truth to tell, he was as eager to continue as Face.  
He lowered himself to the floor again, running a hand up Face's side, then over the bared curve of his shoulder and under his back, to lift the slighter man's nude upper body, holding him as he kissed the wanton smile from his lover's mouth.   
Face gasped at the intensity of the caress and his free arm reached up to curl around Hannibal's neck. "Oh, Hannibal, you do still want me, don't you?" His voice was husky with both desire and the need for reassurance, which Hannibal gave to him gladly.  
"The day I stop wanting you, is the day this world ends," he replied softly, tightening his hold and kissing Tem again.  
A trifle breathless with the heat and urgency of his Colonel's kisses, Tem gave himself up entirely to his lover's pleasure, running his fingers through Smith's short hair, holding him in a fierce grip, pulling him down to the floor again so that Hannibal sprawled out on top of him.  
"Ah, Tem, I love you so damn much..." murmured Hannibal, his hands roaming over the warm, bare skin of the man beneath him, losing himself in the scent and taste of this most precious of beings.   
He was faintly surprised when he felt Tem's hand guide his to the belt of his immaculate white pants, then touch the belt of his own jeans, in a wordless gesture - both asking, and giving, permission.  
Smith lifted his head a moment from ravishing the still eager lips below his, and saw that Face was looking straight up at him, his eyes unfocussed, but the look of passion on his flushed face was all the Colonel needed to understand.  
Sitting up, Hannibal got to one knee and without seeming effort, lifted Face into his arms, then got slowly to his feet. He moved towards the bedroom, Tem's left arm clinging tightly around his neck; his right pushing the denim shirt aside so his mouth could trace a line of tiny kisses along Smith's collarbones, and nuzzle at his chest, small sounds of satisfaction coming in muffled gasps between each kiss.  
With Tem so obviously aroused and willing, Hannibal didn't think he would make the bed before his rampant organ burst free from the stifling material which confined it. It said much for his self control, and expertise, that not only did he manage to lay Face safely on the top of the covers, but also to divest himself and Face of their in-the-way clothes.  
Face moaned his satisfaction as Hannibal's naked body impacted with his own. Swiftly, he wound his long limbs around the solid form of his Colonel, arms holding Hannibal close as he kissed him eagerly. His passionate tongue demanded the older man's compliance which Hannibal instantly gave.   
With his lover’s legs wrapped round his waist, Hannibal surrendered eagerly to his Lieutenant's demands. Rolling them both sideways, Hannibal caressed Tem's hips and buttocks, gently stroking the warm valley between the peach-shaped curves, waiting for the moment Face could relax enough to allow him the long awaited reunion of their physical forms. Face had come a long way in the last few weeks, getting back to a degree of the intimacy they used to share so eagerly. Smith had always held back, however, making no attempt to have full intercourse, unsure whether his partner had yet recovered enough mentally and physically from his trauma. Even now, he still had enough control - just - to wait that extra minute or two to make sure that Face was ready to receive his eagerly pulsating manhood.  
Hannibal drew his mouth away for a second as he whispered, "You sure, Tem?" At the same time, he pressed a gentle finger to the hot, damp, entrance which would lead him to the remembered delights he yearned to rediscover, deep within that beautiful body: an unmistakable question that Face could not misunderstand.   
In answer, Face reached down between them to stroke the hard shaft already pressing into his belly and smiled: "Oh yes, Hannibal, my own dearest love, I'm quite, quite sure... love me, Hannibal ...like before..."  
A feeling of great relief swept over Hannibal at those words, and reaching out for the cream in the bedside drawer, he gently prepared them both with the ease of long and loving practice. Trying to roll Face over onto his front, Smith paused as Face resisted him, shaking his long hair back, "Please Hannibal...I want to hold you..."  
Reluctant to cause him any distress by arguing, Hannibal gave in to his lover's plea, even knowing it would be more comfortable for Face the other way. He grabbed a pillow and placed it under Face's narrow hips, as he murmured, "Yes, my love...I want you to hold me, don't let go..."  
"Never!" murmured Peck, pulling Hannibal down to kiss him squarely on the mouth, then slowly spread his legs, exposing himself trustingly to the man he loved above all else.  
That one word and simple action of the younger man as he gave himself to his lover, almost destroyed Hannibal's control, knowing how hard they had both fought to reach this place, this time.  
Blinking back the emotion which threatened to overwhelm him, Smith knelt between the parted thighs and slid his hands under the firm round curves of Tem's buttocks, lifting his lover higher so that he could take possession of the gifts offered to him.   
As he leaned forward Hannibal gave an astonished gasp as Peck's hand reached down and stroked the swollen length of his penis, then with great care, guided the throbbing organ to the entrance of his willing body.   
"Oh, Face...Tem, my wonderful, beautiful love..." Becoming incoherent with desire, Hannibal edged closer, needing to be within his partner's vibrant body, the way he had always done, taking him with firm, but gentle thrusts, making them one.   
Smith felt his partner tense as he penetrated the tight, moist opening, and heard the not quite stifled gasp of pained fear. Half expecting some resistance, Hannibal paused, bending forward to murmur soft words of love and reassurance into Tem's ear, his strong hand stroking the soft damp skin of his lover's hip, until he felt Face relax enough for him to sheath himself fully into his beloved. He began to delve deeper and deeper, seeking to give as much pleasure as he was receiving, every slight movement of Face's hips sending electric waves of sheer ecstasy through the older man's loins.   
For long moments Hannibal rode the quivering body, his hands holding his lover's sweat-soaked limbs firmly, until he threw back his head, shouting his passion aloud, as he climaxed, pumping his seed into Face on a scalding torrent, re-claiming his right to love this most precious of men and be loved in return.   
Face held on tightly to Hannibal's upper arms, feeling the hard bulk of Hannibal's substantial shaft moving rhythmically within him, making him bite his lip at first, fearful of being hurt, trying to remember that this man sheathed inside him, was the man he loved, the man he wanted in him, beside him, with him, for always.   
Then his instincts took over as his lover forged deeper within him and he began to respond to the sensations rippling through him. Timidly at first, he began to ride out the waves of desire coming from Hannibal with more confidence; moving with him, encouraging him, timidly at first, enjoying the soft little cries which broke from Hannibal's lips as he felt the welcome reaction of Tem's inner body to his passionate invasion.  
As Face felt Hannibal reach the point of no return, there was a tense, strange moment of stillness, then he cried out in unison with his lover, as a heated flood spread through him, reaching past all his barriers,   
gushing warmly to melt the frozen ice which had crippled his heart and desires. He was whole, he was free!  
He wanted it to last, holding on, hearing Hannibal's breathless cries, feeling the older man's hands on his buttocks, lifting him, urging him to completion too, and as the final spasm heralded the end of Hannibal's outpouring of love, his own climax seemed to steal up on him, leaving him shaken and triumphant.  
As Hannibal slowly withdrew his spent but satisfied organ from the quivering sheath of his lover's body, he quickly rolled sideways so as not to crush the slighter form beneath him, pulling Face to rest against his own heaving chest.  
"You okay, sweetheart?" he gasped hoarsely.  
A hand reached up to pat his shoulder. "Oh, yes..."  
"Good," sighed Smith, relaxing a moment, allowing his heart to settle to a slower rate.  
"Good?" murmured Face, stroking Hannibal's chest, "That was more than good, Colonel. That was," he paused, "absolutely-bloody-fantastic."  
Hannibal stared down at the half-hidden face resting against his shoulder, feeling slightly stunned at the words and more than a little relieved, as he thought he might have shown more control. "Really?"  
"You know you were," said Peck, kissing the nearest nipple, feeling it peak under his lips.   
"Well...I..." began Hannibal, then as Face flung one leg across him, he realised that the younger man had climaxed too: "Seems, you were too," he said, stroking his lover’s hip.  
He smiled as a rosy tint spread over his partner's upper body, feeling the heat of it against his own skin.  
Face burrowed his blushing features into the bigger man's shoulder, and lay there, smiling contentedly, his fears buried under his happiness. It seemed ridiculous to him now that he'd been afraid, but the ordeal he'd been subjected to had not only hurt his physical body, it had damaged his self-esteem, his confidence, his faith in his own ability to love and Hannibal's love for him - all had suffered to a far greater degree. It was only in the past couple of weeks, that he'd felt the wounds slowly beginning to heal. He hadn't forgotten that he faced a further challenge, but he so wanted to savour this time with Hannibal, the comfort and content of being with his lover had pushed everything else to the back of his mind.   
Right now, with the memory of Hannibal's urgent loving still warming his body and heart, he thought he could overcome any disadvantage, so long as his Colonel was beside him, ready to back him up, physically and emotionally.  
Smith was also content to lie still, his arms cradling the slender form, feeling the welcome weight of Tem's warm body spread over and around him. He thought he might just expire with sheer happiness. He slowly stroked the silky hair tickling his neck and chest, thinking how happy they could be - just being together. It was a damn shame that this - to him - blissful existence couldn't last because of other people's hang-ups, troubles and in some cases, sheer meanness of spirit. If only the whole Team could live in society, without Lynch or anyone else chasing them? Then he paused, knowing how bored he got when he didn't have a job to go to, or some sleazeball to take down, or helping a good person to get justice. How he loved to see Tem sparkle as he conned some fat-cat promoter out of his socks, see the look on Murdock's face when he took the controls of a plane and howled his happiness into the blue sky...and B.A.'s scowl when things were going wrong, or even right, the scowl remained, just the degree and length of it differed. He grinned, knowing he was maligning his sergeant, B.A. did smile, occasionally. They were happiest doing what they'd always done, helping people, getting the better of Lynch and any criminal who thought they could best the A-Team.   
It was just recently, with Face getting so badly hurt, that had soured the jazz for them all.  
That thought brought his present dilemma to mind and Smith sighed inwardly. Why did he have to think of practical matters right now, with the soft breath of his satiated partner warm on his skin, the memory of his own journey to the deepest parts of Tem's body still shooting electric sparks through him.  
He knew the answer of course. He - they - couldn't really relax until the question of Maddox had been resolved, and the much more important matter of Tem's eyesight being restored. He would have to find some way of getting his partner to see Simon Pierce, the psychiatrist had impressed him during their short visit, his words had made sense to Hannibal. He reckoned that Face might've been impressed also, if his younger colleague had given himself time to think.  
Hannibal sighed, Tem's pride and stubborn streak of independence could seriously interfere with his good health at times. Hannibal wasn't altogether certain himself that Simon was correct, but at least it was worth a try. Anything at all was worth a try, if it meant getting his lover's vision back.  
He'd think of something, even if it meant hog-tying his reluctant Lieutenant and carrying him to Pierce's office.  
Hannibal blinked and caught himself nodding, he must be more exhausted than he thought. Well, he grinned to himself, it had been one helluva day, and their early evening loving hadn't exactly been boring either. Twisting his head to glance at the digital clock he saw it was almost six, and decided that he could catch a nap until six-forty-five, then he'd have to do something about a meal.  
Inclining his head, he managed to see most of Tem's face, his long lashes were closed, marking a dark crescent on each flushed cheek. Smith's heart contracted with pride and a twinge of awe at the innocent beauty in that sleeping face, no wonder he was so much in love. Tem's face, together with his slender, desirable body, could make a marble statue fall in love. Although, Hannibal had to concede with a wicked grin, there was nothing stone-like, or even innocent in the amount of passion that Peck could generate, whether he was the one making love, or being the recipient of Smith's own passion. We belong together, thought Hannibal lazily, each one sparking off the other, mentally, physically and emotionally.  
He wriggled down until he was more comfortable, eliciting a slight sigh from his precious armful, but Face was too tired to surface yet from his slumbers, and soon settled again. One arm was flung upward round Hannibal's neck, his left leg still curled around Smith's thighs, his quiescent genitals, resting warm and soft against the older man's lower belly. Feeling quite satisfied with his world at present, Smith joined his partner in a restful sleep.

Colonel Smith started awake, trying to remember what had awakened him, and felt the wonderful weight of his Lieutenant's warm form, still slumped partly across him. He realised it was the telephone again and lay back, shifting Tem slightly to relax his arms. He heard the answering machine switch on and thanked whoever had designed the gadget whereby he could hear who was ringing, before deciding to answer. His ears pricked up as he heard Maggie's voice:   
"Hannibal...you there?"  
Not able to get to the phone without disturbing his sleeping lover, Hannibal listened to the message.  
"Hannibal, I thought I would come round, if that's okay? Please ring me when you get the chance - I'm at home. Bye for now."  
The machine clicked off and left Smith with a bit of a problem.   
He looked at the clock, it was six-fifty, still a little too early to use the hour as an excuse to put off the doctor, in any case he wanted to hear what Maggie had to say.  
He kissed the top of the blond head tucked snugly against him, and spoke gently: "Tem, honey, you awake?"  
No reply, but there was a faint movement against his chest.  
Hannibal tried again. "Templeton, come on, wake up."  
A slight murmur came from parted lips. "Awww..."  
"Tem, my love, I'm awake, I'd like some company," whispered Hannibal persuasively.  
Tem lifted his head slightly and kissed Smith on the jaw. "Much too comfortable," he muttered, shifting his weight slightly.  
Smith bit his lip as Peck's manhood pressed more firmly against his own. At first he thought it was deliberate, but as Face settled again, he realised he was just making himself comfortable.  
"Come on, Face, how about some food?"  
A dark, admonishing eyebrow was lifted, "You still thinking of food, Colonel? I must be slipping."  
"Ah, but I'm hungry, hungry as well," protested Smith, smiling a little at the nonsense.  
"Then I suppose I'd better get you fed," sighed Face, stirring slowly against his Colonel, this time there was no mistaking his deliberation, as Hannibal was pushed flat onto his back, his Lieutenant sitting astride his thighs, hands running up his muscled torso.  
"I love it when you blush, Hannibal," chuckled Face.  
"How'd you know?" Hannibal's grin froze on his lips, at the same time as Face frowned and shook his head.   
"Tem, can you see?" whispered Hannibal, sitting up abruptly, catching his lover as Face swayed to one side, one hand going up to rub his eyes.  
"Yes...er no...I don't know," cried Peck, rubbing frantically at his eyes. "I thought I did... just for a moment or two." He sat still, staring straight into Hannibal's face. "I can see you, Hannibal, not clearly, but...." He laughed shakily, then bent forward to kiss his partner. "Isn't that wonderful? I can see you again."  
"Oh Tem, oh my love...that's great." Hannibal's voice was shaky with relief and love. He hugged the slim body close to him, covering the smiling face with soft butterfly kisses.  
He was so relieved he felt light-headed, suddenly all things slipped into their proper place.  
"That's worth celebrating," he declared, holding Peck at arm's length in order to see those sea-green eyes, sparkling back at him.  
"It sure is," laughed Face, "y'know Hannibal, for a time there, I was beginning to get worried."  
"You were?" sighed Smith, "Oh, Face, I'm so glad...I could...I could..."  
"Kiss me?" smiled Face, leaning forward enticingly.  
"That too..." laughed Hannibal, kissing him fiercely.  
A few breathless moments later, Tem levered himself up off Smith's chest and pushed his ruffled hair back from his sweating brow.  
"Phew...Hannibal...let me breathe."  
"Okay...I think I can do that."  
Face settled back into Hannibal's arms as the larger man sat back against the headboard. "So, mon Colonel, what do you suggest we do now?"  
"W e l l..." began Smith, with a very lecherous look down at their entwined bodies, stroking a slow hand down the nearest tanned thigh.  
Face gave him a mock punch, "I mean about Maddox and company?"  
Hannibal's grip tightened just a fraction, making Peck look at him closely. "We'll get Maddox, kid, never fear about that."  
"I know we will, I'm just wondering how?" said Peck as calmly as he could.  
"I'll think of something," said Hannibal, lightly.  
"Now, how did I know you were gonna say that?" teased Face, then was quiet for a long moment.  
"You okay, kid?" asked Hannibal, nuzzling the soft fair hair.  
"Yeah," replied Face quietly. Something was bothering him, way back in the depths of memory; something he didn’t want to think about... something, or someone nasty.  
"Don't worry, Face. We'll get Murdock and B.A. together and find some way of getting that slimeball." He paused, "I did have a glimmering of an idea, thought about drawing him out of town, somewhere where he doesn't have all the advantage."  
"Yeah?" asked Face, perking up a little. "That would be better, too many back alleys and corners in L.A."  
"Yes, and we can also spot Lynch and his mob, more easily too," said Hannibal, not forgetting about their recent chase.  
Face groaned, "Oh boy, they say that troubles never come singly."  
"And they don't," replied Hannibal, absently stroking Tem’s hair.  
Sensing his Colonel's change of mood, Face sat up, and kissed Smith on the nose. "Hey, how about getting dressed and going out. I’d like to see some sunshine and blue sky... just in case."   
"Bit late for that," joked Hannibal, "It'll be dark in a..." he paused and frowned. "Why, just in case - how are your eyes?" He sat up, suddenly afraid.  
Face shrugged. "Still a little blurry, but I can see you okay," he managed a small smile.  
A cold hand seemed to squeeze Hannibal's heart as he felt a dark cloud again threatening their happiness and peace of mind. "That's fine then," he managed to say calmly.   
Oh God, please ... he begged inwardly.  
"Okay, let's go out - wherever you want to go."  
Face smiled at him, "You may regret saying that, Colonel."  
"I never regret being with you, Tem, you are everything I want, or will ever need," Hannibal said softly, stroking a gentle finger down his lover's lean cheek.  
"Oh Hannibal," Face leaned forward and kissed the older man hard, "I do love you - so very much."  
"That's good, 'cos as you know, the feeling is entirely mutual," said Hannibal, his hands holding the handsome face between his palms, looking deep into the bright eyes. "You still want to go out?" he asked.  
"Not really," said Face, "but we have to get something to eat anyway." He sat back, rubbing his forehead, two little lines appearing between his dark blond eyebrows.  
"What's the matter?" asked Hannibal fearfully.  
"Nothing, I'm okay, bit of a headache," said Face, sliding to the side of the bed to stand up. For a second he stood there, stretching, then turned towards the bathroom, "Think I'll grab myself a shower."  
"Don't take all evening," called Smith, as he got up and dragged on his dark blue robe.  
"Right..." called Face, "just be a couple of hours or so."  
"Impudent brat," called Smith, half smiling as he went into the lounge, deciding to call Maggie while he remembered.  
Picking up the phone, he slumped down on the couch and dialled the doctor's number. She answered straight away, making Hannibal think she must've been sitting next to it.  
"Hi, Maggie, got your message..." began Hannibal.  
"Oh Hannibal, I'm so glad you called." The Doctor sounded agitated.  
"Why, what's wrong?" asked Smith, sitting straighter.  
"I think somebody followed me on my way home," she replied.  
"Damn," cursed the Colonel, not liking the implications of this news at all. He had always tried to keep their friends safe. "Do you think they're still there?" he asked.  
"No. I'm sure they're not." Maggie replied. "Turns out it was a police officer, or so he said when he stopped me - in a police car...but I waited until he'd gone, before I came home...and I tried to make sure I wasn't followed to my house."  
It was a bit garbled, but Smith understood most of it. "You mean you lost him?"  
"Yes, I'm sure I did," replied Maggie. "There isn't anyone in sight, anyhow."  
"Good work, Doc." Hannibal sighed in relief. "Better get someone to ride with you if you have to go out. Ring me and I'll send B.A. for you if you need to come and visit."  
"That's okay, Hannibal. How's Face?"  
"Well, I was going to say that everything's fine, but now I'm not so sure," said Hannibal.  
"Why, what'd you mean?"  
"His vision came back a little while ago..."  
"That's marvellous..."  
"Hold your horses, Doc." The Colonel broke in on her enthusiasm, "I'm very much afraid it's clouding again." Hannibal sounded deflated.  
"Oh." There was a pause. "I'm so sorry, Hannibal."  
"Yes, I know..."  
Maggie was silent, she knew there was nothing she could say at that moment that would make him feel better.  
"Maybe that's a good sign, Hannibal. I'm more convinced than ever that it isn't physical," she said at last.  
"Yeah, well your pal's brother Simon is of the same opinion...but I'm not convinced, nor is Face. What if they missed something Maggie? What if it is something physical?" Hannibal sounded frustrated and almost scared.  
"There is always the possibility that we missed some symptom, Hannibal, but all the tests prove that Face is perfectly all right in the physical sense," she said adamantly. "Why can't you and Face accept that there might be another cause?"  
"I don't know, Doc...at the moment I can't seem to think straight. I hate to see Face so..so.."  
"Vulnerable?" put in the doctor.  
Silence came down the line.  
Maggie tried to think of another argument that Smith could accept.  
"I don't know exactly why Face is blind, Hannibal, but if there isn't a physical cause, and neither Stephen nor I can find one, there has to be another reason."   
Smith frowned. "Yes that all sounds very logical, but what the hell has caused it?"  
Maggie paused, picturing the vivid blue eyes in that tanned face and the anxiety that had been in them at Pierce's office. She cleared her throat, wishing she could put out her hand to touch him, ease some of the tension he was endeavouring to keep under control.  
"It could be shock," she said at last. "Maybe he's had one hell of a shock and can't handle it, so he's retreated..."  
Smith tensed. "Retreated? Hell, Maggie, he hasn't a cowardly bone in his body." He was astonished and angry at the perceived slur on his Lieutenant.  
Maggie closed her eyes, "Okay, okay, I know he hasn't, none of you have. Maybe I used the wrong word." She paused, trying to marshal her thoughts, the last thing she wanted was to fall out with Hannibal. "What I mean is, he's seen something so terrible, either in reality, or in his imagination, he can't bear to look at it. So," she paused again, "he isn't going to look at it."  
Smith snorted, "That sounds way too simplistic."  
"Theories usually are, it's proving them that are difficult," she said quietly.  
Hannibal wasn't really listening, something was nagging at him, demanding his attention. "Just a minute, Maggie."  
He took the receiver away from his ear, realising that the sound of the shower had stopped, but there was no sign, or sound from his lieutenant.   
"Hang on a minute, Doc..."  
He put down the receiver and hurried into the bedroom, heading straight for the en-suite bathroom.  
"Face," he called softly, "you okay, kid?"  
He went into the steam-filled interior and looked toward the shower stall.   
It was empty, then he saw the nude figure of his lover, sitting in the cushioned basket chair, his head in his hands, water slowly dripping from the ends of his long fair hair, a towel lying on the floor by his feet.  
"Face?" Hannibal was scared.  
The bare shoulders were shaking, and Hannibal knelt down on the floor, trying to take hold of the hands covering Tem's face. "Face...Face, talk to me...what's wrong?"  
Peck shook his head, still hiding his face. "It's come back...." he choked out.  
Hannibal knew exactly what he was talking about.   
"Oh no." He put his arms around the forlorn figure and held him close, rocking him in his arms, desperate to comfort the younger man.  
"Oh Hannibal, the dark came back." Face started to cry, softly, helplessly. The abrupt change from blissful happiness, to despair had taken its toll of his inner strength and he was again lost in the horror of the darkness.  
"Oh my dear one, I'm sorry. Shh...don't cry, Tem, please don't cry, we'll find out what's causing it, I promise...I promise..."  
Peck turned his wet face into Hannibal's shoulder and cried harder, sobs shaking him violently.  
While the storm raged, Hannibal held on, whispering words of love and comfort, stroking Tem's wet hair, kissing his averted face, not knowing what else to do.  
At last, the tears stopped, and Smith rocked the trembling body tenderly, until the shaking eased.  
"I'm cold," came the small voice from within the folds of Hannibal's robe.   
"Come on, then, let's get you dried and warm," said Hannibal, trying not to curse aloud at this further blow Fate had dealt them.  
He reached for a warmer towel on the hot rail and briskly rubbed his Lieutenant dry, folding another one round his shoulders before leading him back to the bedroom.  
"Get into bed, I'll bring you a hot drink...stop the shakes," he said.  
Peck merely nodded and lay back, eyes closed.  
Hannibal tucked the duvet around the still naked form, smoothed the damp hair back from his forehead, then went out to the lounge. He saw the telephone receiver off the hook and remembered he'd been talking to Maggie.  
Picking up the receiver, he answered the doctor's anxious questions, telling her simply what had happened, then said he had to go and would call her.  
Making the coffee hot and sweet, he took a mug back into the bedroom.  
"Here you go, kid," he said softly, sitting on the side of the bed.  
Face didn't move at first, then sat up, clutching the warm cover around him. He put out his hand for the cup and Smith placed it carefully in his grasp.  
Face sipped the hot liquid gratefully, he still felt dazed at the suddenness of his 'affliction'.   
"I'm sorry, Hannibal, for giving way like that," he said, a little shamefaced at what he considered his 'weakness'. “I’m not usually so weepy.”  
That was true, Hannibal knew.  
"A few tears sometimes clears the head," he said, giving his lover a comforting squeeze of one bare shoulder. "And let's face it, Face," he tried for one of their old jokes, "it wasn't for nothing... over the years we've all had plenty to cry about."  
"Yes, but not all of us do it," said Face, turning away slightly.  
"We don't show it, kid, but we all do it." Smith paused. "Just so happens that we, being together so much, know more of each other than most."  
Face's smooth brow creased in a slight scowl, "Can you run that by me again."  
"I said..."  
"Never mind, I get the message Colonel." Face put out his hand and Smith took it in his own strong grasp. "Whatever happens to one, happens to both - right?"  
"Right!" Hannibal said.  
"And...and...you're still going to be stuck with me?" The slight question didn't get past Smith.  
"That's right, Lieutenant." Hannibal pulled slightly until Face was in his arms, mug teetering in his unsteady grip. "You're mine, all mine, and I'm all yours, so don't go trying to find an excuse to leave."  
Peck tensed, wondering how his Colonel could read his mind so accurately, then, realising it was a chance remark, sighed in relief. He didn't really want to leave his lover anyway.  
"You hear me, Tem?" Smith's voice was insistent.  
"I hear you loud and clear, Hannibal." Peck paused. "Thanks," he added simply, snuggling deeper into his lover's warm embrace.  
"You are quite welcome, Templeton." Smith kissed the top of his drying hair and savoured the closeness for long minutes. He didn't want to disturb his younger companion just yet, but he had come to a decision. After a little while he voiced it. "There's one thing though, whether you like it or not, Face, we're going to go visit that psychiatrist tomorrow."  
He put his hand gently over Peck's opening lips, quelling any argument. "No. No arguments, we have to try every avenue. Who knows, that guy may know what he's talking about."  
Face reached up and removed the hand from his mouth, struggling to sit up. "Hannibal, I don't need a shrink. How many times have I got to say it?"   
"Don't matter how many times you say it, Lieutenant. This is one time you're going to follow orders."   
Smith had been scared, still was. He knew he might lose his Lieutenant to the black despair that would come between them if the situation got any worse, and he wasn't about to let that happen.  
"Look, kid, what harm can it do? Just try and co-operate with him," he paused, stroking Face's hair gently, trying to soothe his Lieutenant's ruffled feelings. "We have to try every single thing, Face ...we just have to try." His voice broke and he bit his lip to stop it trembling.  
On the verge of yelling that he was not going to co-operate with any damn shrink Face paused. Sensing his lover's distress, he closed his mouth, thinking quickly. He didn't want to go and see Pierce, but he also didn't want to cause Hannibal any anxiety that could be avoided.   
Heaving a martyred sigh he capitulated. "I suppose I could go and see what he says, not that it'll do any good, though." He raised a hand, fingers tracing Smith's features. "If it was in my mind, don't you think I would get rid of it? I don't want to be in this darkness, y'know?"  
"I know that, kid," said Hannibal. "I don't know how that Simon fella can help, either, but..." he sighed. "We have to try anything, or anybody who might be able to help. Okay now...you promise?"  
Face was quiet a second longer, than gave a slight shrug. "Okay, I promise. I won't like it," he added querulously, "but I'll go."  
"That's my boy." grinned Hannibal, relief making him light-hearted for a few moments.   
He hugged Face a little tighter, wrapping him in love and the soft folds of the quilt, then asked hesitantly. "Can you tell me what happened? - in the shower I mean? Did you fall, slip, or something?"  
Face shivered, then shook his head. "No," he said quietly, recalling all too vividly the way the darkness had crept over him. "One minute I could see the tiles, the water... everything; the next second, they were gone." He paused, clutching Hannibal a little tighter. "I managed to turn the shower off and get out. I stumbled into the chair and just sat down. I couldn't believe it, Hannibal...just couldn't believe it." His voice shook and he bit his lip, turning his face into the warmth of Hannibal's chest.  
Hannibal stroked his back soothingly, his blue eyes bleak, as he saw in his mind's eye his lover stumbling around, falling over the chair and crawling up to sit in its fleeting security. "I'm sorry, Tem, I should've stayed with you, why didn't you call me?" he said.  
"You can't always be with me, Hannibal, there was no reason to think the blindness would come back so soon. I was only taking a shower."  
"Did you think it was coming back?" asked Hannibal incredulously.  
"Not really...I was hoping it wouldn't," said Face in a small voice. "It just didn't feel right when I went into the bathroom, but I thought...I don't know what I thought." He pressed closer into Hannibal. "I'm so glad you're with me, Hannibal. I don't think I could have got through this without you. Thanks!"  
"No thanks necessary," said Smith, trying to keep from blurting out how he'd always be there, "all part of the Hannibal Smith service - for special people, of course," he added, his loving expression belying the flippant words.  
"Mind you keep it like that," said Peck, responding in kind, then he yawned, "Oh, sorry," he apologised.   
"Why don't you slid under the covers and have a nap, we can't do very much until tomorrow, anyway," urged Smith.  
"I've just woken up," complained Face, "I can't be that tired."  
"Maybe not, but we've both had a strenuous day, not to mention a very exhausting evening, remember?" Hannibal deliberately tickled Face's sides, making the younger man squirm.  
"Hey, that's not fair..." protested Face, wriggling away. "Ah, that's better," he murmured, as the strong fingers, gentling into a caress, found their way under the duvet, running from his right hip to his throat, taking a short diversion to include both nipples, circling and teasing them to hard little peaks.  
Face sighed, his body arching to the knowing, loving hands of his partner, his own arms fighting clear of the encompassing quilt to reach around Smith's neck, drawing him down to kiss him passionately on the mouth.  
"Mmm, you taste so delicious," breathed Hannibal, coming up for air.  
"Must be the shower gel," teased Face, then dragged the silver head down to bestow another heart-stopping kiss on his lover's eager mouth.  
Despite knowing that they were deliberately putting their troubles on hold, Smith couldn't help but respond to the younger man's stimulating embrace. Throwing off his robe, he lost no time in disentangling Peck's golden-skinned frame from the soft folds of the duvet before sliding them both under the warm  
cover.  
Although neither had much energy left after their recent marathon bout of loving, the two lovers still found satisfaction in holding each other closely, their limbs intimately entwined, kissing passionately, tongues delving deeply as they drank passionately of each other's essence, pausing now and then to whisper sweet endearments, before finally falling into an exhausted slumber.

The sun was barely above the horizon when Smith awoke, feeling pleasantly tired but content. The reason for both these emotions was lying sprawled across his chest, warm, bare flesh gleaming against the dark blue sheet draped provocatively across his buttocks. Smith sighed, running a hand down the supple back, patting the firm mounds possessively.   
Oh boy! he thought, even after last night he can still get my motor racing! Wonder what I used to do in the mornings before we got together? He grinned to himself, probably lit a cigar and thought about how to get this gorgeous piece of flesh into my bed. Well, Tem was truly his now, and no one was going to take him away without one helluva fight. So, the sooner he could get rid of Maddox and his loathsome gang, the sooner he and Tem could relax and enjoy being together.  
He blew on the warm forehead resting against his shoulder, making the fair hair stir. Peck's straight nose wrinkled, but his eyes stayed shut.  
Hannibal tried again, this time kissing the back of Face's neck, but there was still no response, although Smith's heart was beating a shade faster than it had been. His hand slid down again to the firm mounds peeping from under the sheet and he patted his lover's delectable, peach-shaped bottom, as he murmured, "Rise and shine, Lieutenant."  
Face moved his head, turning so he was breathing into Smith's neck, and Hannibal felt the long lashes quiver and brush his skin as Face opened his eyes.  
"Why?" he muttered.  
"Well, 'cos the sun's up and it's gonna be a beautiful day..." Smith stopped short, cursing himself inwardly, for a split second he'd forgotten that Face wouldn't be able to see it.  
Face didn't seem to notice, or at least didn't remark on it, merely snuggling further into the larger form and closing his eyes again.  
"I hate early mornings, you know that Hannibal," he said drowsily.  
"Don't I know it," said Hannibal, remembering the days when they'd taken turns on watch while watching for Lynch, or any one of the numerous people on the lookout for them. Although Face had taken his turn, he'd always been hard to rouse in the pre-dawn hours, which was such a change from being in the jungle, there, no-one had slept soundly, or for very long at a time.   
He knew, however, it wasn't just the early morning; although Face sounded relaxed, there was a tenseness in his arm muscles and Hannibal had always known when he was being scammed, or almost always.  
“Tem," he said, brushing the hair from Face's brow. "Come on, kid. You know we have to get going."  
"I don't know anything of the sort," muttered Face, but the tension was growing in his back.  
"Oh Face, come on. I haven't changed my mind. We are going to see Pierce this morning. We have to."  
"What's all this we business?" Face rolled to the side, struggling to sit up, but finding the sheet tangling his lower limbs. "It's me that has to sit and be poked and pried into... damn this sheet..." He managed to sit, only to find Smith's arms about him, strong and comforting.  
Peck gave a token struggle, then relaxed into the embrace, fighting with his commander wasn't going to help either of them. Besides, he knew only too well that the larger man could subdue him physically if he really meant to do it. Smith was not only bigger and stronger than Peck, but despite being years older, he was more experienced in dirty fighting than his lover would ever be; though sometimes in their playful sex duels, Hannibal allowed him to win.  
"That's better, kid. I'm sorry you have to go through with this, but don't you understand? We're running out of options, we have to try."  
Hannibal's voice was calm, but knowing him as well as he did, Face could hear the hint of desperate fear in it - fear for him - and his anger dissipated like snow before a sunbeam.   
Peck sighed. "I'm sorry, too, Hannibal. You're not the one I should be fighting with..." he rubbed his brow. "I don't know about this guy Pierce, he makes me uneasy."  
"How uneasy?" asked Hannibal frowning. He hadn't sensed any bad vibes from the psychiatrist.  
The smooth shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "I don't know, maybe it's because I can't see him, he's a complete stranger. Oh, I don't really know, Hannibal. I just wish there was some other way."   
Smith hugged the forlorn figure a little tighter. "I wish that too, Face," he was quiet for a moment, regret for past events racing through his mind. "I wish I'd never agreed to help Al, wish we weren't always on the run; wish Maddox had fallen into his own cesspit, wish I'd been able to get my hands around his filthy neck..." His voice shook as he recalled the events of that particular 'job'.  
"Hush now, Hannibal." It was Face's turn to offer comfort, turning in Smith's arms to stroke the unshaven face. "We've been over that ground many times. It wasn't your fault, it wasn't my fault, only Maddox was responsible for what happened to me...to us..." He paused and his voice took on a grimmer note. "And he's going to pay for that."  
Smith nodded, turning the hand stroking his cheek and kissing the palm "He will, Tem. He'll pay all right."  
They sat together in silence for long moments, each busy with his own thoughts, then Smith patted his lover on the back. "You okay now, kid? We can go and face the outside?"  
"If we must," sighed Face, "and only if we face it together."  
"Always, my dearest Lieutenant, always."

Thirty minutes later, Hannibal, barefoot and wearing a dark blue robe, tongue caught between his even white teeth, was carefully running an electric razor over Face's lean jaw-line, while his Lieutenant sat on the padded bathroom chair, clad only in a short, white robe. They had just come out of the shower and Hannibal had, half-jokingly, offered to shave his lover's dark-gold stubble. He'd been astonished and unable to think of a witty response, when Face had considered a moment, then nodded, merely saying. "As long as you don't make me bleed to death, or give me a razor burn."  
Peck had combed his damp hair straight back from his face and in Hannibal's opinion, biased though it may be, it made him look more handsome than ever, as it showed off the lieutenant's high cheekbones, broad brow and straight nose to their best advantage.   
Face sat still, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, which vision had distracted Hannibal quite a lot when the folds of the robe had fallen aside to reveal firm, sun-tanned thighs.  
Trying not to be too affected by the sexual allure of his soul-mate, Hannibal moved round the seated figure to make sure he'd made a good, even, job of his self-imposed task.  
Nodding to himself, he stood back behind the chair and affecting his ’gay hairdresser's’ voice, lisped. "All finished, sir - will you require anything further...anything at all?" he added suggestively.  
Face looked straight ahead and for a moment, Hannibal thought he could see his reflection in the mirror, then shook his head at his fantasy.  
The Lieutenant ran a hand over his smooth cheeks and chin and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, my good man," he said in a bored voice, mimicking his Colonel. "You may kiss me....here." He pressed a finger to his mouth, then licked his lips, parting them invitingly.  
Hannibal felt a sudden heat race through his entire frame and his voice almost choked on the reply: "Oh really, thank you sir, thank you."  
He tipped the fair head back and bent lovingly over his still seated partner and took advantage of the invitation.   
After a lengthy interval, Smith let Face sit up and asked: "Is that adequate, sir?" he enquired humbly.  
Responding to the nonsense, Face frowned, a delicious pout to his just kissed mouth. "It will do - for the moment. Now, peasant, dress me, and make sure you take the pins out of the shirt.”  
"As my lord and master wishes," said Hannibal and spoilt the scene by tipping the chair backwards so that Face fell out into his ready arms.  
"Hey..." The Lieutenant was a tangle of naked legs, flailing arms and loose white material, which had slipped off one shoulder, baring more of his still damp body.  
The robe was yanked off, he was swept up into strong arms that had recently wielded a razor so delicately, and the still protesting junior officer was carried into the bedroom and placed carefully on the  
side of the bed.  
"What, what are you doing?" Face asked breathlessly.  
"Why, as you ordered, sir. I'm going to dress you."  
"Oh!" There was a trace of ruefulness in Face's tone, which didn't escape Hannibal's notice.   
"You were expecting something a little more erotic...maybe...I hope," asked Hannibal.  
"Of course not," Face tossed his drying hair back. "We'll have plenty of time to play later...after..." his light teasing tone changed to a more serious one, "...after we get back from this...this..."   
"Don't swear, Lieutenant," admonished Smith mildly, knowing that the game was over, and how his lover must be feeling.  
In reply, Face put his thumb to his nose and wiggled his fingers, not realising that his aim was slightly off, which, though he tried to smile, made Hannibal's heart ache.  
An hour later, combed, groomed and dressed to perfection, Peck sat on the couch waiting until Hannibal finished up in the bathroom. His face was set in a solemn expression, his eyes downcast as he fiddled nervously with the bone buttons on his dark green safari suit jacket. Much to Smith's relief, Face had decided to be casual today, so the Colonel hadn't made any mistakes in picking out the correct outfit. The colour and cut of the expensive material suited Tem's figure well; the slim fitting pants emphasised the length of his long legs; the jacket, with its open neck and trim fit, showed off the width of his shoulders and narrow waist.   
All in all, Hannibal decided, a quite perfect picture. He came silently out of the bedroom and stopped to admire the trim figure waiting so patiently. His smile of appreciation turned into a frown as he noticed the nervous twitching of the supple fingers and he could practically feel the tension in the angle of his lover's well shaped head and shoulders.  
Face looked a lot different to the teasing, amorous young man of just an hour ago, thought Smith, his heart aching with compassion and love for this most beloved of men.   
There wasn't a trace of his usually sunny smile, tension radiated from every bone and muscle and his lower lip was caught between his teeth. He looked scared and very much alone, thought Hannibal, his hands clenching in sympathetic pain.  
He vowed to himself that he would remove the cause of that fear, even if he had to kill Maddox to do it. He wasn't a killer by nature and took no pleasure in the fact that he'd killed human beings in the past; that had been his duty in war, but that didn't mean he had to like it. For what a creep like Maddox had done to his lover, however, and the hell he'd put them all through, he wouldn't have any compunction at all.  
Watching his Lieutenant closely, he deliberately made a noise as he stepped into the lounge and saw the way Peck's shoulders straightened, the nervous motion of his hands were stilled and a smile replaced the look of a man with no way out.  
Oh Tem, don't try to hide your pain from me, I love you, I want to help you...  
Hannibal didn't say the words aloud. Face was hanging on grimly to his self respect and his courage; Hannibal couldn't take that away from him.  
"There you are, Colonel, thought you'd decided to go back to bed," joked Face.  
"Don't tempt me, lover," replied Hannibal, sensing his younger partner's relief at the familiar badinage.  
"Did you find my sunglasses?" asked Face as he got slowly to his feet.  
"Oh, yes...here you are," Hannibal put the designer pair of dark specs into his lover's hands.  
"Thanks," said Peck, putting on the darkened lenses.   
He needed them not so much for protection from the hot rays of the summer sun, but as a cover to hide behind. It was irrational, but he felt more comfortable if people couldn't see his eyes.  
"You ready to go?" Smith asked.  
Peck's green-clad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Not really, but let's get it over with."   
“Right," Smith tried to sound positive, but it was a struggle. He hated to see his lover so down in spirits, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it right now.  
Shrugging on his own black and white hounds-tooth jacket, he took Peck's elbow and steered him towards the door.  
Checking outside, Hannibal found the corridor empty of any people, and guided the slighter man outside and made the door as secure as he could. Then, with a hand on Face's elbow, walked them down to the elevators.

Flicking a cigar out of his inside pocket, Smith took out his lighter and without taking his reassuring hand away from Face's arm, lit his cigar and re-pocketed the lighter.  
At the first puff of smoke, Peck tensed and drew back slightly.   
"Hannibal, is there anyone else here?" he half whispered.  
"No, kid..." replied Smith, teeth clenched round his cigar. "Just thee and me."  
"Oh...right." Face relaxed a fraction.  
Smith was just about to ask why Face had thought someone was there, when the elevator door slid open to reveal three passengers. Closing his mouth, Smith guided Peck into the car and moved to the back, the instinct to keep his back to a wall, unconsciously decided.  
The only lady passenger glared at Smith and pointedly sniffed at the trace of smoke from the lit cigar. Hannibal smiled jauntily back at her and drew in another lungful of smoke, not realising that Peck had again tensed up as the pungent smell of the smoke became more noticeable in the confined space. His gentlemanly instincts re-surfacing, Hannibal took the cigar from his mouth, pinched it out and bowed slightly to the grey-haired lady, who merely sniffed even louder and turned her back.  
Grinning unrepentedly, Smith leaned back against the wall and squeezed Face's arm reassuringly.  
It seemed an eternity to Face as the elevator stopped on almost every floor. "Would have been quicker to walk down," he muttered to Hannibal, shifting uncomfortably as a man the size of Schwarzenegger pushed into the crowded car.  
Smith inserted an elbow into the bigger man's side, holding him at bay to give his partner space to breathe. He received a very unfriendly glare, but at the glint in the older man's ice-blue eyes, the Arnie look-a-like backed away.  
"I think you're right, kid, but we're here now." Smith gave an inward sigh of relief as the car reached the ground floor.  
He waited until the press of people had exited before getting Peck and himself out. He'd arranged with B.A. to pick them up on the corner so they made their way to the sidewalk and turned left.  
The black van was waiting at the kerb and Smith smiled, "Good old B.A. right on time, as always."  
"Yeah, right," said Peck.  
As luck would have it, the journey to Pierce's office block was uneventful, not a cop in sight, much to Face's chagrin. He wouldn't have minded a bit of chase, as long as they weren't caught of course, it would have delayed his meeting with the wheelchair bound psychiatrist. Now it seemed as though nothing would save him from a gruelling session with the doctor.  
"Are you sure he's expecting us?" he asked, as the van stopped at a red light.  
"Yes, I phoned earlier this morning," replied Hannibal patiently.   
It was the third time Peck had asked that question since they started, all worded differently and seemingly innocuous, but in reality, delaying tactics. Smith was adamant though, no matter how stubborn Face could be, Smith could be even moreso, especially when the well-being of his favourite Lieutenant was in question.  
"Oh!" Face was already regretting his promise of the previous evening.  
B.A. glanced over at Smith who was sitting in his usual seat beside him and shook his head, grinning slightly. Face was in a no-win situation here, but the Lieutenant kept trying.  
Smith smiled back gently and lit another cigar, puffing contentedly in the security of the van.  
In the rear seat behind him, Face tensed again as the smell of the smoke caught his nostrils, he'd heard the faint click of the lighter and was already tensed-up. He kept telling himself not to be a baby, it was just Hannibal, enjoying his usual Havana, but the smell caused a wave of fear to wash over him and he had to fight from yelling: Put it out, put it out! The first few days after his rescue from the beach-house, he had been panic-stricken every time he scented smoke, whether from a cigar, or cigarette, but that had lessened as he'd grown to trust the people around him and as it was usually Hannibal anyway, he wasn't afraid of his lover.  
Now with his vision gone, he was a constant prey to his inner fears, but he hadn't yet been able to tell Hannibal of this particular fear.  
He was almost glad when the van pulled up and he heard Smith tell their sergeant to keep alert and he'd contact him when they were ready to leave.  
"Sorry to treat you like a taxi, B.A, but we need backup."  
The big sergeant snorted. "I don' mind, Hannibal. We're all on edge, so don' worry 'bout me, I've got nothin' planned for today."  
Face felt the big man's hand on his shoulder. "You take care, Faceman, see you later."  
"Thanks, B.A."   
Then he was being shepherded across the pavement and felt the coolness of the air-conditioning as they moved into the building.  
He braced himself inwardly, now for another tussle. He just didn't know what the psychiatrist wanted him to say, but as he'd played a few of the scientific gentry in his career, he had no doubt he could answer all the questions.  
The wait for the elevator seemed interminable, but Face didn't mind the delay. It was Hannibal who was glaring at the lights on the panel as they crawled downward.  
The car eventually arrived and out of nowhere, a crowd surged forward, carrying the two men forward, with Hannibal desperately trying to keep in contact with his partner. He was the target of quite a few vitriolic glares as he managed to stamp on practically every foot in range, but no-one dared to comment as they met the ice-cold fury in the silver-haired man's eyes, as he kept a firm grip on the arm of the blond man in green.  
By the time they'd reached their floor the numbers had thinned out and Hannibal could relax a fraction. He still glanced around often, trying to look in all directions at once, but they reached Simon Pierce's office without incident.  
The psychiatrist was waiting for them, in fact it looked as if he'd never moved from behind his huge desk.  
"Good morning, gentlemen," Pierce greeted them, his voice booming from within his massive chest.  
"'Morning, Doc," responded Smith, guiding Peck to a chair in front of the desk.  
Face stood still for a moment as though debating whether to sit, his heart pounding as adrenaline poured through his veins, ready to fight, or run. Then making his decision, he settled himself into the chair, hitching automatically at his pants so that the creases remained straight, then folded his hands demurely in his lap and waited.  
Smith glanced at Pierce, who was looking at Face thoughtfully, twirling a pencil between his fingers.  
As Smith looked round for a seat, the psychiatrist motioned with his hand towards a chair to one side of the desk, indicating that the Colonel should sit there. Hannibal hesitated, it was a few feet away from the one in which Face was sitting, and he wanted to be within touching distance of his partner, to reassure himself as much as Face.  
Noticing the Colonel's indecision, Pierce nodded reassuringly and reluctantly, Smith sat down.  
"Do you wish Colonel Smith to remain in the room?" asked Pierce suddenly, startling both of the other men.  
Smith frowned, he wasn't about to leave his Lieutenant alone with a stranger Peck didn't even trust.  
"Why, is that a problem?" asked Peck coolly.  
"Not for me," answered Pierce.  
Peck shrugged elegant shoulders. "Nor me," he said briefly.  
"What about me?" asked Hannibal, sotto voce.  
"Shut up, Hannibal," ordered Face, good-naturedly, having heard the muttered words. "This is my psychiatrist, not yours."  
"Ah, your hearing is very acute," said Pierce.  
"Yes, it is. Is that a pencil you're twirling in your fingers?" asked Peck guilelessly.  
Smith couldn't help a small grin as the big man stopped the pencil in mid-twirl, but Simon quickly recovered.  
"Do you believe that your other senses are compensating for your lack of vision?" he asked, placing the pencil on the spotless blotter in front of him.  
"No."  
Pierce waited a beat, until it was clear Peck wasn't going to elaborate.  
"So you've got good ears? I bet that was an asset to your fellow soldiers?"  
Peck frowned slightly, "What has that got to do with anything?"  
"Nothing. I was merely making an observation," replied the doctor.  
Smith was becoming fidgety, but kept silent, wondering where the good doctor was heading.  
"Will you tell me where you were when you first thought you couldn't see?"  
"Thought?" Peck sounded indignant. "There's no thought about it, Doc, I can't see a thing."  
"Yes, I understand that is the case," replied Pierce, with maddening deliberation. "But when did you first discover it?"  
Smith moved in his chair, opening his mouth, but an abrupt uplifting of Pierce's hand made him close it again.  
"A couple of days ago," Face said, nonchalantly, but Pierce could see the tension in his studied pose.  
"Exactly where and when?" the older man insisted.  
"When I came home from a restaurant, day before yesterday," said Peck quickly, then taking a breath he tried to relax again. He wasn't going to allow this man to get to him.  
"So you went to a restaurant to have a meal, you came out, went home and found you couldn't see. That about right?"  
"It was a trifle more complicated than that," protested Smith.  
"Colonel. Please allow your Lieutenant to speak for himself, or I'll have to ask you to leave."  
Smith's mouth gaped open, then saw the psychiatrist's quick gesture of apology and moderated his answer. “I won't leave, Doc, but I'll try and keep my mouth shut.”  
"That'll be a first," said Face, quietly.  
Without rancour, Smith retorted: “Don't be cheeky, kid.”  
Face grinned.  
It was quite a revelation to the psychiatrist at the depth of understanding between these two men, who should have been separated by age and experience, but were very, very, much on the same wavelength.  
The stories he'd heard in 'Nam were now more understandable and he wished with all his heart that he'd been a part of Smith's team in that hellhole.  
Pierce brought his wandering attention back to the slim young man sitting in front him, trying to appear unconcerned.  
"You were going to tell me." Pierce said.  
"Well actually, I wasn't about to say anything," smiled Peck. He leaned back and crossed his long legs, "but I'll save us all a lot of time and tell you that my sight came back yesterday for a short period; so it's obviously wearing off, whatever caused it. So it's going to be all right." He uncrossed his legs and sat ramrod straight in the chair. "I want to thank you for your efforts, Doctor, please send us your account.”  
"So, you think that's it? Nothing else to do, or say?" Pierce shook his head. "I'm afraid it isn't all right. You can't see, can you?"  
"No..." began Peck, but Pierce cut him off.   
Coming out from behind the desk the wheelchair-bound man propelled himself towards Peck and stopped in front of one of the most obstinate patients he'd ever had the misfortune to deal with. "Let me examine your eyes," he added, bringing a small pen torch from inside his coat.  
"I told you, I don't..."  
"Can you see now?" asked Pierce abruptly.  
"Well, not at the moment," Peck had to confess.  
"How long did the period of vision last?"  
"I'm not sure," said Face hesitantly. Not long enough.  
"How long?" insisted Pierce, reaching out a hand to grasp Peck's firm chin.   
Face jumped, trying to flinch away, but the doctor's hand was strong, and he couldn't move.  
"I don't know...not very long, a few minutes, maybe half-an-hour." He squirmed in the chair. "Hannibal!"  
"I'm here, Face," said the Colonel, rising to his feet.  
"Do you know how long his vision lasted, Colonel?"  
"As he said, not very long...he could see when he went into the shower and couldn't when he came out."  
"Can you remember what you were doing when your vision returned?" asked Pierce, not realising what a leading question that was.  
The fiery blush that spread over his patient's smooth skin, gave the psychiatrist a clue.  
"None of your damn business," choked Face, now quite rattled.  
Pierce paused, knowing he'd hit a very tender spot. It was lucky he wasn't looking at Smith at that moment, as the Colonel's face too, was much pinker than usual.  
"Sorry if the question is indelicate, but I'm trying to help, y'know," Simon said pacifically. "Can I put it another way, were you feeling fairly happy - and safe?"  
Peck's blush deepened, he couldn't speak, but his heart answered silently. Yes, yes, I was very happy, my lover was beside me, in me...I was safe...quite safe in his arms... I was happy...  
"Shall I take that as a 'yes'?" Pierce asked, not expecting, nor receiving a reply. "Hold still a moment please, I just want to check..." The pencil torch flashed on and off into the wide sea-coloured eyes, then Pierce let his captive go.  
"What was all that about?" demanded Face, wriggling as far back in his chair as possible.  
"I wanted to see if there was any change from yesterday's results."  
"And is there?" asked Smith, taking out a cigar to settle nerves he wasn't aware he'd had.   
He took out his lighter and flicked it on, putting the flame to the cigar and blew out a lungful of aromatic smoke.  
Face tensed and Pierce who had been about to answer Smith, looked hard at him, then glanced over at the Colonel, who being behind Face, didn't notice anything amiss.  
"That smells like a good cigar, Colonel," Pierce said, wheeling round to face Smith. "Been smoking them long?"  
"Yes...since I gave up cigarettes in my teens," said Hannibal, frowning a little. "Why?"  
"Just wondered whether it was a fairly recent habit."  
"No, been smoking 'em for years...and yes, I know it's bad for me, but I happen to like cigars."  
"Right," Pierce turned back to Face who had relaxed during this exchange between the two older men.  
"Do you smoke, Lieutenant?"  
Face froze for a vital second before answering, "Occasionally."  
"Ah, I just wondered. You didn't seem to like the smell of the Colonel's cigar."  
"I like them well enough," Face managed calmly.  
"It doesn't bring back any unhappy memories, then?"  
"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, Doctor."  
Pierce glanced at Smith, who had taken the cigar out of his mouth and was gazing at it, horror-stricken.   
"You sure about that?"  
"Of course I'm sure. I even scammed the damn things for Hannibal out in 'Nam."  
"Ah, yes, you were the scrounger of the outfit, you got the items that were needed - both personal and military, I take it?"  
"You take it right," asserted Peck, a certain pride creeping into his voice.  
"He was, still is, the best," Smith put in quietly, stubbing out the suddenly unpalatable cigar with violent precision.  
"I'm sure he is." Pierce turned back to Peck. "So Colonel Smith's cigars don't worry you at all?"  
"Nope."  
"What about other smoke? That bother you?"  
"No it didn't...I mean, it doesn't," said Peck, fingers twisting together in his lap.  
"Ah, can you be a little more specific, please?" Pierce asked gently.  
"What's to be specific?" asked Peck belligerently.  
"Well, I was wondering if you meant, smoke didn't use to bother you, now it does, is that correct?"  
Face shifted uneasily in his chair. "Sometimes...I guess," he at last admitted.  
"Is this a recent development?"  
Face shrugged, "Don't really know," he said hesitantly.  
Hannibal closed his eyes in sympathy, he knew it was recent, ever since those slimeballs had caught his Lieutenant and brutalised him, Face must've been afraid of smoke. When he could see, it hadn't mattered so much, he could remove himself from any danger, now it wasn't so easy.  
Pierce had wheeled himself back towards his desk and picked up a brown folder, opening it while he gave his client a few moments to collect his thoughts.   
"I have your medical notes here and see that you were injured recently, some nasty burns. Is that why you don't like the smell of cigar smoke?" he probed compassionately.  
Peck turned white, the room whirling about him, as he was instantly transported back to the agony of those long hours of torment.  
Smith clenched his hands, forcing himself to stay where he was. He couldn't see his lover's features, but knew a little of the thoughts that would be going through that blond head. He knew, however, that he had to trust the psychiatrist to know what he was doing.  
Pierce waited a moment, then asked again. "Is that the reason you don't like smoke?"   
"Maybe." Peck rallied. He felt as though he was choking, but was still determined to fight back.  
"Would you like to talk about it?"  
"No!"   
"You sure? Might help."  
Face took a deep breath. "You've obviously read my file, would you like to talk about it, if it had happened to you?" he asked aggressively.  
Pierce didn't reply, he wanted to hear what Peck would say next, but Face insisted again: "Well, would you, Doc? Answer my question, damn it."   
The quaver in his voice made Pierce give up his advantage, he would never normally get involved in answering questions, he was there to ask them. He needed Face to talk about the injuries which had caused him so much distress, both physically and apparently mentally as well, but it obviously meant a lot to the younger man to hear his reaction. He shook his head, sympathy in his grey eyes. "Can't say that I would, Lieutenant."  
"Well then," Peck seemed a little less tense.  
"Sometimes, though, what we want is not the best thing for our peace of mind," said Pierce quietly.  
"My mind is just fine," said Face, a little colour returning to his ashen cheeks, determined to outlast this infuriating questioner.   
"I'm sure it is, Lieutenant. No one is suggesting anything else."  
"No? You could've fooled me," muttered Face sardonically.  
"I'm not impugning your intelligence, or your sanity, Templeton. I merely think that the reason you can't see, is due to some mental block. It has nothing to do with sanity, or otherwise."  
"You mean you're not going to bring up the old chestnut of did I hate my father?" Face asked lightly, although he didn't really feel like being humorous, he just needed to break the thread of these painful questions.  
"I can, if you want me too," smiled Pierce.  
"Ah, well, Doc, that poses quite a problem," Face said.  
"Why?" asked the older man.  
"If you've got my file, you'll know."  
The man in the wheelchair frowned slightly. "Know what? I've only read your recent medical file."  
There was a short silence, and Smith held his breath waiting to see what Face would say. His Lieutenant had used the I'm an orphan act many times when he'd been scamming, but the older man knew it hurt his lover deeply, not knowing who his parents had been, or where he'd come from.  
Face looked down, not wanting the psychiatrist to see the pain in his eyes, then rallied a little, finding a defiant spark that had always served him in the past. "Haven't got a clue whether I liked my father or not. I don't seem to have one."  
"What about your mother?" asked Pierce, making Hannibal close his eyes in pain.  
Peck tried a nonchalant shrug. "Don't have one of those, either.”  
"Oh?"   
"Yeah, well I know I must've had one at some time, but she hasn't turned up to claim me yet..." Peck gave a falsely cheerful smile. "I'm a bit too old to be claimed now."  
Smith glanced over at Pierce and saw him close his eyes in sympathy and he suddenly felt a glimmering of hope that they would get through this thing. Pierce wasn't half as hard as he was making himself out to be.  
"Oh!" Simon paused, then added sincerely, "That must've been very difficult to handle at times."  
Face didn't speak, there were no words that could describe how difficult it had been, especially in his youth: High School, College, he had always felt alone; even though the few friends he'd made had invited him to meet their families, it had hurt not having one of his own.  
Pierce allowed him a few moments, glancing over at Smith, seeing the older man's eyes on his colleague. If there had ever been a doubt in his own mind about the relationship between these two men, it was dispelled instantly at the look of pure love being sent across the space to enwrap the younger man in a protective shell. It made him feel as though he was privy to something extremely special.  
Eventually Pierce cleared his throat, "Can we get back to this fear of smoke?"   
"I never said I was afraid of smoke," began Face heatedly, turning his head to where he knew his Colonel was sitting.  
"I beg your pardon," replied Pierce, letting the untruth lie for the moment. "When you were in the restaurant the other day, the day this seemed to start, was there a fire alarm? Was someone hurt in a fire?"  
Face shook his head, "Not that I recall."  
Pierce rubbed his forehead, at times he felt as though he was getting close to the truth, then it seemed to fade again.  
"Do you remember anything else about that day?" he asked.  
Smith leaned forward, this was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. What did Tem remember about that day.  
Face tensed and brushed his blond fringe back from his brow, taking the opportunity to rub surreptitiously at his aching eyes.  
He couldn’t remember precisely what had happened to him in the restaurant, he only knew that something fearful had occurred, and even though he felt he should remember - he couldn’t. This infuriating questioner, however, wouldn't be put off. Deciding that it might be quicker to answer briefly than to get into another argument, he sighed. "I got a taxi and went to the Mall; had a look round the stores, it felt too crowded so I got a taxi to Rodeo Drive, spent a few dollars on buying new clothes....oh," he paused, turning  
his head toward Smith. "Hannibal, I bought you some gloves, they must still be in my coat pocket."  
"Thanks, kid, we'll get them later."  
As Face shifted uneasily in his seat, the psychiatrist gently urged, "Where did you go after that?"  
Face frowned, his hands fidgeting with his watch strap. "After that? Must've gone to the restaurant ...yes, that's right," he said, suddenly wanting to get events straight in his own mind. "I phoned Hannibal from the store and arranged to meet him at Mario's...that's right, eh Hannibal?"  
"That's right, Tem," replied the Colonel, his guts tightening as he remembered the almost catatonic state his lover had been in when he'd arrived.  
"Then," urged Pierce.  
Face frowned, then shrugged. "Then...I don't know. Hannibal?"  
Pierce shook his head at Smith as the Colonel opened his mouth. "I'd like you to tell me what happened, Templeton."  
"Well..." Face rubbed agitatedly at his eyes again. "I...I don't know."  
"Let's go back a step, you remember buying the gloves?"  
"Y e s..." He didn't sound too sure.  
"Then you telephoned Colonel Smith?"  
Face nodded, "Yes...made arrangements for Mario's."  
"Did you take a cab, or walk?" asked Pierce, "Try and remember. I think it might be important."  
"I don't know..." cried Face, now even more upset.  
"Okay, okay...take it easy, son." Pierce sat back, but he hadn't given up. “How about some coffee? Colonel?"  
Smith nodded, his throat dry with the effort of keeping silent and the need to comfort his lover. He really wanted to take Tem home for some tender-loving-care; but the sooner they got to the bottom of this the better.  
“Yeah, that would be fine," he agreed. Getting up he moved over to Face. "You okay, kid?" he asked quietly, putting a hand on the green-clad arm.   
Face nodded wordlessly, but his fingers gripped Hannibal's hand tightly.  
Pierce picked up the phone and asked the female voice on the other end to send in a pot of coffee for three, then replaced the handset and placed his fingers together, staring at Peck over the top.  
"Are you all right, Lieutenant? I don't want to pressure you, but we are making progress."  
"We are? Can't see how," muttered Face.  
"Well, I've made one or two observations. May I tell you?"  
"Can I stop you," asked Face, not really meaning it.  
"Of course." Pierce seemed surprised. "I hope you don't, but you are free to walk out of here at any time."  
Face was saved the necessity of answering by the arrival of a young lady in a smart, white, nurse's uniform, carrying a silver tray with a large pot of coffee and three cups and saucers. There was even a plate of daintily cut sandwiches.  
"Thank you, Gillian," said Pierce The woman smiled at him, then departed as quietly as she'd entered.  
There was a brief interlude as coffee was poured, sandwiches offered and politely declined by Smith and Peck. Pierce however, picked one up, apologising: "Sorry, but I didn't get any breakfast this morning."  
Smith sipped his coffee, his eyes anxiously watching Face, as the younger man carefully sipped the hot liquid, managing not to spill any. This seemed to give him a boost, as he relaxed a little, sitting back in his chair.  
Pierce wiped his lips with a linen napkin and leaned forward again. "Now as I was saying, I've made one or two observations."  
"I'm all ears," came faintly from the direction of the Lieutenant.  
Smith shook his head, knowing the rudeness was Tem's way of defending himself from any scent of danger.  
"That's good," was all Pierce had to say, however, then continued. "Well, I'm sure that you don't like the scent of smoke and this dislike is of recent origin." He paused, but Peck merely shrugged and buried his elegant nose in the almost empty cup. "I also think this is because you now can't see who is smoking and that bothers you? Is that correct?"  
Another shrug.  
"Am I right, Mr. Peck?"  
Face was becoming irritated again. "Yes...No...Look, I don't know what you're getting at."  
"I think you do, Lieutenant. The smell of cigar, or cigarette smoke frightens you, unless you know it is someone you trust."  
"Er..."  
"Yes, Lieutenant?" Pierce waited.  
Face sat forward, his recently reasonable mood beginning to evaporate under the doctor's persistence. "Smoke doesn't bother me when I can see where it's coming from."  
"Yes, fire, or even smoke can be very frightening to someone who can't see," agreed Pierce. "So, it's not the actual smoke you're afraid...I beg your pardon...that you are wary of." He sipped at his coffee again, studying the two men. "Okay, now let's get back to this day when you decided you couldn't see."  
Face sat bolt upright, forgetting all his good intentions to stay calm and cool and play the psychiatrist at his own game. This guy was getting on his nerves and his simmering rage boiled over.  
"I didn't DECIDE...you, you, half-witted moron. Who in their right mind wants to be blind...for God's sake..." he shouted.  
"Exactly. You want to be able to see again and I want to help you," Pierce said calmly, leaning back in his chair.  
"This is ridiculous. You are not helping me by suggesting I'm lying," said Face his agitation plainly visible. "Hannibal, I want to leave."  
"Okay, Face, whatever you want," Smith had sat almost stunned by the seeming cruelty of the crippled ex-vet. Yet he could see what the doctor was trying to do. So long as Face thought he was in control, he would just play with the psychiatrist, talking but not answering, any important issues.   
"Just a moment, Colonel." Pierce said keeping his cool manner. "Mr. Peck, why do you resist facing the facts?"  
Face was on his feet, his features ashen, his eyes glaring enmity towards the sound of the hard, inexorable voice, which was making stupid assumptions. "I am not resisting the facts. You are twisting the facts. I did not plan to become blind, to be a burden on my friends, putting them in danger. What do you think I am?"   
Pierce asked quietly. "More to the point Lieutenant, what do you think you are?"  
Face laughed harshly. "Oh Doc, you're good, very good. But I'll tell you anyway." He paused, then went right on. "I'm an ex-Special Forces Lieutenant with a problem - I can't see. I'm also a fugitive, along with my closest friends, because we were ordered to rob a bank, supposedly to help our side win a victory. We were thrown to the wolves by our own side in the interests of international diplomacy and so we’ve always got the military on our tail. There's no rest for any of us; we can't settle down or keep a legitimate job; we can't go to the law for protection when a sleazeball like Maddox, or any of his cronies threaten us. Hell, we even have a price on our heads." He paused, his clenched hands raised in anger. "I am not, as you are probably thinking, a gutless coward who needs to be looked after the whole time. I've looked after myself for most of my life, I can do it again, once this darkness goes."  
The blond young man was trembling with anger and he flung out a hand again to his partner. "Hannibal, will you show me the way out of here?"  
Although Pierce was filled with pity, and anger, at the catalogue of events which had made the A Team into fugitives, he couldn’t let it show. "You still need help, Mr. Peck," he said masking his compassion for this fiery, rebellious, yet obviously vulnerable patient. "You can't get around this building without a helping hand, can you?"  
Smith stepped forward. "I think that's enough, Doctor." He too, was white-faced with barely concealed fury, yet his heart was aching at the depth of sorrow revealed in his lover's outburst.   
It was evident to him more than ever, that Face would love a more settled life; to be able to go outside without being hunted all the time, not to have to watch what he did every single second. No wonder his Lieutenant had gone AWOL so often, before they’d become lovers. It was Tem's way of saying, I want to be free to live and love whom I choose.  
Pierce's voice brought him back from his momentary reverie. "No, it isn't Colonel, but if you're going to whisk my patient away every time he gets upset, it's not going to do either of you any good."  
"Upset?" Peck gave a hard laugh. "Now why should I be upset, Doctor? You practically call me a coward to my face, you think I'm lying to you... now why should anyone be upset under those circumstances?"  
Pierce sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I'm trying to get you to see the facts, Templeton. I'm not suggesting you're a coward, far from it, and I'm sorry if you think I am. There is a world of difference between feeling fear and being a coward, you both know that well enough." He gave a small sigh as he added. "You are not my usual sort of patient. There is nothing physically wrong with your eyesight. You are a very good-looking, fit, young man...there has to be another reason for this blindness. I'm trying to get to the bottom of it, but you are resisting me at every turn." He paused. "Why is that?"  
Peck was still breathing hard, one hand outstretched for his Colonel's assistance. Smith had come forward to take it and they both stood motionless for long seconds, as the psychiatrist's words sank into their minds.  
"Is it because you are a very independent, individual young man, who doesn't like taking help from a stranger, or something else?"   
Smith looked hard at Pierce and saw the sharp grey eyes boring into him, urging him to keep quiet.   
Peck looked slightly less tense at Pierce's reasonable tone of voice. "Maybe. I've found that strangers, some strangers, want to hurt us; others don't offer help, they are usually in need of it."  
"Well, maybe I need your help and co-operation in order to get to the bottom of your condition." The psychiatrist paused. "I do think that you need my help, Mr. Peck, but I can't do it alone. Won't you help me, to help you?" His tone was conciliatory, and compelling.  
Peck stood for a moment, then shook his head ruefully, his volatile mood changing yet again, to one of reluctant admiration. "Ever consider being a scam artiste, Doctor Pierce? You sound almost as good as me. You really are something, y'know that?" He turned towards where Smith was still holding his arm. "Isn't he Hannibal?"  
"Oh yes, the doctor is very good." Smith's eyes, however, were like blue flint. He didn't like the way Pierce was causing Tem so much anguish, even though it might be for his own good. He was beginning to get a picture of where Tem's recent troubles were coming from. The psychiatrist was on the right track, something very frightening had happened to Face on his day out, probably at that restaurant, or even earlier. Why the hell didn't I follow him, like I wanted to do? thought Smith, furious with himself.   
"Won't you sit down? Please? Let's try and get to the bottom of this. I'm confident we can if you can persevere with me a little longer," the psychiatrist's voice was calm and cajoling.  
Face hesitated, he really wanted to leave, but his own curiosity was now roused. He hadn't realised that there was such a blank spot in his memory of that day, so despite his misgivings at trusting this strange, but very clever man, he nodded briefly and squeezed Smith's hand. "Okay, we'll stay for a while... Hannibal?"  
Smith paused, his shrewd eyes looking hard at Pierce, who met them squarely and with that inner instinct which had stood him in good stead for many of his adult years, Hannibal knew he could trust the psychiatrist with his partner's well being.  
"Yes, okay, Tem...as long as you're comfortable with that." This was an indirect warning to Pierce, who, understanding the trust that was being placed in him, nodded his agreement.  
"Thank you gentlemen." Pierce waited until the Colonel had re-seated himself, this time pulling his chair closer to Peck's regardless of whether Pierce wished it or not.  
"Right then. I think that something happened on your day out that upset you so much, you can't recall what it was. I'd like to take you back to that day and go through it from the moment you left the apartment."  
Peck had a sudden desire to chuckle, thinking it was a good thing that Pierce didn't want to know what had happened the night before. The memory of Hannibal's loving was still a warm, secret place in his troubled heart and mind.  
The psychiatrist waited a moment, then as Face didn't seem to know where to start, he suggested. "You were okay when you left the apartment? Is that correct?"  
Face nodded. "Yes. I haven't been out much lately, I needed to go out just..." he shrugged then went on bravely, "just to see whether I could."  
Pierce encouraged, "Did you walk?"  
"I walked to the corner and got a cab." Face then went on to tell the two older men of his journey to the Mall. "Everything seemed so noisy and crowded, I didn't enjoy it much," Face said, turning his head to where he knew Hannibal was sitting. "I decided to go to Rodeo Drive and see Andre, he's owner/manager of a very good tailoring establishment," he added, for Pierce's benefit.  
"Ah, yes, you wanted to buy some new clothes," Pierce recalled and Smith saw he was making a few short notes on a pad on his desk.  
"That's right...and I did."  
"Whoa back, there, Lieutenant. Did you see anything that might've upset you, or see anyone you knew?"  
Face frowned. "Don't think so. I caught another cab to Andre's and walked down the sidewalk to the store." He paused, "Oh yes, I spoke to some English tourists...they were so happy and excited..." he smiled a little at the memory, "it was a sheer pleasure to talk to someone who didn't...didn't.." He frowned, and shifted uneasily.  
"Yes, Mr. Peck...someone who didn't what?"  
"I don't really know, they were just three English girls who seemed to be enjoying themselves, not someone I had to watch out for, like Lynch, or police."   
"Then what happened?"  
Smith sat forward watching his lover intently, thankful that Face had decided to stop being awkward and co-operate with the crippled psychiatrist.  
"Then, I went into the store. Andre came to meet me as he usually does and we talked clothes, materials, new styles...things like that," explained Face.  
"Was anyone else in the store?" asked Simon.  
Peck shrugged. "Sure, it's very popular. Must've been about half a dozen clients."  
"Were they all men, or a mixture?" asked Pierce.  
"All men, I think..." Face frowned. "No wait a second, there was a lady there, a youngish lady buying something for her brother, I think..."  
"So, you talked fashion with Mr. Andre?" encouraged Pierce.  
"I bought some gloves for Hannibal, then decided to ring home and ask you..." he turned to Smith, "to have lunch at Mario's. We talked a little and you said you'd meet me in the restaurant."  
Smith nodded as Pierce shot a look his way. "Yes, that's right. I had to get a cab, you said you'd walk as it was such a fine day.”  
Face smiled in his Colonel's direction. "It was. I enjoyed the walk."   
There was silence while Pierce consulted his notes and the other two men were busy with their own private recollections.  
"You got to the restaurant first I take it," Pierce continued.  
Face cleared his throat, wondering why his palms were sweating, he rubbed them on the knees of his pants, which action didn't go unnoticed by the two older men.  
"Yes...that's right...can I have some more coffee?" asked Face, his mouth suddenly very dry.   
"Yes, of course. I'll get Gillian to bring some in."  
Another phone call and Pierce settled back. "So you went into the restaurant?"  
"Yes," Face nodded. "Mario was as boisterous as ever," he smiled wryly, remembering the bear-hugs he'd endured over the years.  
"This Mario - you've known him a long time?"  
"Oh yes...years. We usually go there for a meal at least once a week, when we're in L.A."  
"You have the same table every time?"  
Face frowned a little. "Yes. Mario tries to keep it for us. What are you getting at Doc? Mario is sound as a bell. He wouldn't do anything to hurt any of us."  
Pierce shrugged and shot a look at Hannibal, who nodded in agreement. "Okay...I just wondered."  
"Wondered? What?" Face was bewildered.  
Pierce cleared his throat a little nervously, he had heard the violent reaction to the mere thought of Face taking any sort of drug. "I just wondered whether he, or someone at the restaurant, had slipped you some sort of drug that had worn off by the time Stephen made the blood tests."  
Peck tensed, a spurt of residual anger from yesterday's conversation with the brain surgeon making his dark-gold eyebrows draw together.   
"I thought we'd been over all that," Hannibal broke in quickly, trying to defuse a volatile situation.  
"Yes, there wasn't a trace of narcotic in any of the tests," Pierce confirmed.  
"So, where does that leave us?" asked Face, trying to relax his clenched fists.  
"Back at the restaurant, I'm afraid," Pierce said apologetically.  
Face sighed. "Oh boy!"  
It was a welcome relief to everyone when a discreet knock on the inner door heralded the arrival of Gillian with another pot of coffee. It was quietly set on the tray and the cold one taken away, all without a word being spoken.  
Hannibal poured Face and himself a cup, as Pierce shook his head.   
"I know you're tired of these questions Lieutenant, but we are eliminating some sources and picking up new ones to examine."  
"Such as?" asked Face, sipping the liquid gratefully.  
"I see from your records you were hurt pretty badly recently. Was that on some job you were undertaking?"  
Face had gone white, his hand holding the delicate china cup, shaking violently. He couldn't answer for some moments and Pierce looked at him, compassion in his grey eyes.  
"Yes," the fair young man managed to choke out.  
"The jobs you do, are they all dangerous?" Pierce looked at Smith who answered with a shrug.   
"Most of 'em, in some way or other."  
"You don't always get hurt, though, do you?" asked Pierce, curious in spite of himself.  
Smith looked at Peck. "Not every time, oh yes, bumps, bruises..."  
"Concussion, split lips, cracked ribs," muttered Face, referring to some of his Colonel's injuries over the past few months.  
"This time, I misjudged the other side... that's why Face got hurt so badly," said Smith flatly, still blaming himself for not knowing about Maddox.  
"We've been through this, Hannibal. You weren't to know how much of a bastard Maddox was." Face said, pulling himself together. He didn't want Hannibal to feel worse than he knew he already did.  
Pierce's ears pricked up. "Maddox? Was he responsible for your injuries?"  
Face turned his head away and Smith opened his mouth, pausing as Pierce shook his head violently at him.  
"Was this Maddox responsible for those burns, Lieutenant?"  
Face shrank into himself. The sneering, cruel faces of the three men at the beach-house who had been particularly brutal towards him - Peterson, Svenson, and Weinberg; their hands holding the burning cigars, mocked him behind his sightless eyes. He shook his head, answering Pierce and denying the ghosts.  
"So it wasn't Maddox?" Pierce said, a little disappointed.   
"He was worse," murmured Face, rocking himself in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.  
"Worse?" Pierce's mouth hung open. He glanced at Smith who had murder in his ice-cold eyes.  
The psychiatrist waited, but when it became obvious that neither Peck nor Smith were going to answer, he changed tack slightly.  
"I understand now why you don't care for the smell of smoke," Pierce said. "Has it only become a problem since you are unable to see who is smoking?"  
Face frowned, trying to concentrate on the words, anything rather than remember the sheer cruelty of his ordeal. He thought he'd been handling it - he had been handling it, with Hannibal's help. Yet he was now trembling like jello, unable to think of anything but those hours he'd lain helpless, at the mercy of sadistic criminals who hadn't a shred of decency amongst them.  
"Can we backtrack a little, to the Mall. Why did you suddenly decide to leave? It was noisy and crowded, yes... but did something else happen?"  
Pierce's questions seemed to fade in and out of Face's consciousness, now thudding inside his head, then fading to a mere whisper he had to strain to hear. He didn't really want to, but suddenly Face was back in the Mall, looking at t-shirts.   
"I was looking for GOOFY," he murmured.  
For once, Pierce looked taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"  
Hannibal, who had also been bombarded with Murdock's recent obsession, knew what Face meant. "The Disney cartoon character," he explained.  
"Ah! Why were you looking for Goofy?" the ex-vet asked.  
"T-shirts for Murdock, of course," Face answered in surprise, "he likes him."  
"Ah, of course. You went looking for t-shirts for Murdock, you bought gloves for the Colonel and clothes for yourself..." Pierce said patiently. "So it was a fairly good trip?"  
"Not really, couldn't find anything for B.A., and...and...Goofy wasn't there...just something else ...didn't like it much..." Face's voice had taken on a vague, faraway tone and his eyes were looking inward.  
Hannibal frowned and shifted in his chair, wanting to break whatever spell his Lieutenant was under. He instinctively knew that Face wasn't with them at the moment.  
Pierce shot out a hand, hissing softly. "Please, Colonel, this could be important."  
Smith paused and sat back reluctantly.  
"Something, or someone had taken Goofy's place?" asked Pierce.  
Face shuddered. "Thought I saw...but couldn't have been...they're in jail. Bastards!"  
Smith tensed, on the alert, he knew who hadn't been in jail.  
"Did you speak to these people?"  
Face shook his head slowly. "No, they weren't there..."  
"Is that when you decided to leave the Mall?" Pierce leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with interest.  
Face shrugged, sitting back, crossing his legs again. "No point in staying. No Goofy, just lots of people, strangers." He glanced round, as though he could see the office. "It's better here. Quiet and comfortable, like Andre's."  
"So you went to Mr. Andre's...you enjoyed that?"  
Face's lips broke into a slight smile. "Oh yes. Always like to go shopping there... such a good variety, excellent service... yes, I like it there."  
"So after you spoke to Hannibal, you went to Mario's," persisted Pierce, not wanting to allow Face to get too far from the subject at hand. He had seen patients in this state before. They were reliving a recent occurrence in their lives, for some it had meant a fairly rapid cure, for some who just couldn't cope with reality, it had meant a long and difficult rehabilitation. Pierce found himself praying that this young man's mental stamina would be strong enough for him to be cured.  
Face smiled a little at his memory of talking with Hannibal and he nodded happily. "Yes."  
"Who else was in the restaurant, Templeton?" Pierce asked abruptly.  
The smile slipped from Peck's lips and his mouth turned down a little, showing his disapproval at the change of direction.  
"Lots of people..." he answered airily, but his fingers clenched again on his knee.  
"Anyone you knew?"  
"A few." Face said slowly. "Mario, of course...one or two others, can't remember their names... know their faces," he explained.  
Hannibal smiled a little at the way Face was now volunteering information.  
All amusement left him however, when Pierce asked. "Were there any enemies in the restaurant, Templeton?"  
Face shivered and shook his head mutely.  
"Is that no enemies, or no you won't answer?"  
The blond head shook a negative again.  
"Come on, Templeton, you're doing fine. Please try and answer my questions. Was there anyone there you didn't like to see?"  
Peck's head came upright and he stared straight at and through the doctor. "I don't like these questions, I don't understand what you want me to say." he replied in a brief period of lucidity.   
"I want you to say what's in your head. Tell me, Lieutenant, who did you see in that restaurant? Was it this Maddox person?"  
Smith looked shocked at the baldness of the question, then turned to his partner, whose features had turned ashen.  
"Don't know... can't have, he's in jail."  
"Was there someone who reminded you of this man, this man who you don't like to think about."  
Face shrank back in his chair, drawing his legs up to rest on the seat, his arms crossing over his knees, hugging them tightly in a protective gesture. He shook his head, his long hair, swirling like a golden cloud in the sunlight from the large window.  
Smith started up and Pierce looked exasperated. "Colonel, please..."  
"I'm not going to sit by and let you torture him like this, Pierce. Can't you see he's had enough."  
"Him, or you, Colonel? Now you know why I prefer to see my patients alone, it's sometimes too much for the near and dear." Pierce retorted angrily; he almost had the answer, he just knew it.  
Smith's eyes were blazing pools of ice-blue fire. "I understand that you genuinely care and want to get to the bottom of this doctor, and that's the only reason I don't bust you one in the mouth, for treating him like this, chair or no chair."  
Pierce was surprised and looked it. "I am trying to help and I do care, Colonel. I'm sorry if I've given any other impression."  
Face interrupted this impending argument by giving a cry of anguish. "I don't know, I can't remember, I can't remember. Hannibal, I can't remember."  
His lover was kneeling by his side in an instant, taking his cold hands in his own large, capable ones, rubbing the tense fingers, talking soothingly to him. "It's all right, Face, don't worry about it. It will all come back eventually, we'll just have to be patient, don't worry, Tem. If it was Maddox, we know how to deal with him. You know we do. Trust me, Tem, we will get him."  
"Trust you, Hannibal, always have," choked the younger man, taking deep breaths to try and still the panic inside, lowering his feet to the carpeted floor, as he fought the demons in his mind.  
Pierce wheeled himself from behind the desk, coming up beside the two men. "You will feel a lot better when you remember what happened, I promise you. Please try and recall exactly who and what you saw at  
that restaurant."  
Smith glared across at him, still chafing the younger man's chilled hands.  
Pierce tried to ignore the frigid glare and looked at Peck. The young Lieutenant was still shivering as with the ague, his lips quivering with the effort of trying to speak coherently.  
"Lieutenant," barked Pierce, using his senior officer's voice, "report your findings."  
Peck gave a startled jump, but didn't reply and Smith gave a snort of disgust. "He knows he's not in the Army any more Doctor, you can't order him to speak."  
"I know that, but you can."  
Smith looked amazed. "No!"  
"Colonel, please, we're so close," whispered Pierce. "You ask him, get him to report to you. He'll answer you."  
Hannibal shook his head. "I've already asked him, he's told us all he can recall."  
"All he needs is a little help. Colonel, you want him to be able to see again, don't you?"  
"That's dirty pool, Doc. You know I do." Smith paused, then added. "What if he doesn't, or can't answer me? It might destroy his trust."  
"I don't think it will. Please try." The psychiatrist's voice was urgent.  
Smith turned to his lover who was still staring straight ahead, his mouth working, but no words emerging. The older man could only imagine the terrible visions his Lieutenant might be experiencing.   
"Tem. Tem, honey. Can you tell me who you saw in the restaurant?" he rubbed the hands he still held. "You saw Mario and went to our table, then what happened?"  
Peck shook his head, twisting away from the voice asking him the unanswerable. The voice of the man he loved and who loved him. Yes, Hannibal loved him, he was trying to help. What was it that his Colonel wanted?  
Suddenly, Peck stopped shivering and sat immobile; then without a word he withdrew his hands from Hannibal's and took off his safari jacket, folding it neatly before placing it on the chair beside him. He sat back confidently, not seeming to realise, or care, that he was wearing only a sleeveless black t-shirt, and said: "I'll have a vodka tonic, please."  
The Colonel sat back on his heels, at first puzzled by this bizarre behaviour, then as Pierce clutched at his arm, warning him to be silent, he realised that Face was back in the restaurant, re-living the critical moments that had somehow destroyed his sight.  
As the two older man watched, a change came over the seated younger man. His face drained of colour and he shrank back in his chair. After a few seconds, his fair head jerked to one side as if evading a blow and his voice came hoarsely from quivering lips. "Don't...don't touch me, you piece of filth."  
A few more moments passed, with the white-faced young man sitting tense and still, then he shuddered and a mumbled "No, no..." came from his lips. Then he sat hunched in his chair, shaking his head from time to time, as he clasped his hands and stared sightlessly down; Hannibal had the weird feeling that Face could actually see his white-knuckled fists.  
Hannibal put out a tentative hand and touched his lover on the knee and Face shrank away from him, mumbling, "No, oh please God...no more, no more... can't stand it. Can't let it happen again, won't let it happen - can't watch, mustn't watch... won't watch any more."  
"Tem...it's okay...it's okay, you're safe now. It's me, kid...you'll be okay now."  
Out of his depth for once, Smith glanced almost pleadingly up at the Doctor, wanting reassurance and Pierce nodded slowly, inwardly hoping that he was right.  
Face came out of his dazed state with an explosive: "Maddox, you fat bastard, get away from me...don't...don't..."  
He fought against Hannibal's embracing arms and so violent were his movements that he knocked his Colonel over. Struggling up out of the chair, he stumbled a few steps with his arms outstretched, obviously seeking the way out.  
Pierce spun his wheelchair back to his desk and reached into a drawer. Pulling out a small metal box, he opened it, revealing a hypodermic syringe and tiny bottle.  
By this time, Hannibal was on his feet again, trying to restrain his smaller partner without causing him any more upset or pain, but Face was lost in a world of pain and darkness and couldn't hear his lover's pleas  
to calm down.  
Hannibal struggled face-to-face with his agitated and extremely agile lover until finally, he managed to pin Peck's threshing arms behind his back, all the while speaking softly, trying to soothe him with words of comfort and love.  
Pierce took advantage of the slight lull to prepare the syringe and moving up behind the locked couple, inserted the needle into Peck's bare forearm and depressed the plunger. Within seconds, Face crumpled forward against Hannibal's chest, his lips working but no coherent words emerging, just a series of garbled gasps and half sobs.   
Smith glared at Pierce as the crippled man touched his arm, angry words on his lips. They remained unsaid as Pierce indicated the long couch along the side wall of his office. "Why don't you let him lie down here, for a while. He, you both, should be safe enough, I think."  
Hannibal hesitated, then nodded. He couldn't very well take Face outside in this state. He lifted the slender form easily into his arms and carried Face the few yards to the couch and laid him down, running a gentle hand over the thick blond mane, as Face gave a low moan and clutched at his arm, before settling limply on his back.   
Hannibal stood for a moment looking down at his lover, his heart almost breaking for the pain stamped on the handsome features. The events he'd witnessed today had made several things so clear, he castigated himself for not seeing them before. If only he'd been minutes earlier in getting to the restaurant, he might have seen Maddox and whoever else had turned his healing partner into a shivering wreck, so traumatised by the encounter that it had caused him to lose his precious sight.  
Simon Pierce watched the tall Colonel as he stood over his sedated Lieutenant and took a deep breath. He wouldn't soon forget the arctic glare from those vivid blue eyes and thanked his lucky stars that he was trying to help, not hurt, the blond young man. He had more than a suspicion that it wouldn't be very healthy for anyone to intentionally hurt Peck.  
"Care to sit down, Colonel Smith. He should sleep for about an hour."  
Hannibal arched his back, he felt tired and tense, a few minutes being able to relax sounded fine by him. He nodded, "Okay, Doc."  
He went back to his chair and sat down gratefully. His anxiety over Face and the stress of hearing his lover's agonized words were beginning to take their toll, and he felt very near to emotional exhaustion point.  
Pierce watched him a moment, seeing Smith's hand rub tiredly at his forehead and reached for the coffee pot, which although having lost its initial heat was still warm enough to drink. He poured a cup of the strong black liquid and propelling himself over to Smith, handed the cup to him, all without saying a word.  
"Thanks," said Smith, taking a long drink. He really needed something stronger, but would settle for any liquid at that moment.  
He set the cup down and looked straight at Pierce. "Care to tell me now, what your findings are?" There was only a trace of sarcasm in the even tone.  
Pierce turned his chair around and wheeled himself back to his desk, which gave him vital moments to think.   
"Colonel, I wish I could give you a pat answer, but there is still so much I don't know." He paused, but Hannibal waited, feeling that there was more information to come, at least there'd better be.  
"It's obvious that this man Maddox has a lot to do with Mr. Peck's state of anxiety. Why is this? Can you tell me a little of how this came about?"  
Hannibal shifted a little, weighing up what he could tell Pierce without betraying his lover's confidence. He knew how Face detested anyone outside of their immediate family knowing what had happened to him.  
"If it helps, I will treat anything you say in strict confidence. You have my word on that."  
"It's not that I don't trust you, Doc, but it's not wholly my story to tell," said Hannibal slowly. Then he took another drink of coffee. "What I can tell you is that Maddox is scum, a real nasty piece of work. We, that is Tem and I and the rest of the Team, came upon Maddox and his gang of drug-pushing sadists while doing a favour for an old client of ours that we helped some time ago. Suffice to say that Face went in undercover and by the sheerest piece of bad luck, was recognised, taken away and tormented."   
Smith's voice faltered and he took another drink of the now cold coffee, before recovering himself enough to continue. "I can't tell you what actually took place, as I wasn't there." He didn't blink as he told this half-truth; he hadn't been there, but he knew from the stolen video exactly what had occurred, but that information would go with him to the grave. "But, from the nature of his injuries, I'm sure you can guess."   
He looked at the psychiatrist, who nodded slowly. He'd got most of the picture from Peck's medical file and though he'd seen most of man's inhumanity to his own species in wartime, it was still a shock to hear of it in this quiet, almost opulent office.   
"That's about it, Doc. That happened a few weeks ago and Face has slowly been getting better. It's been an uphill struggle for him, but he was doing fine until a couple of days ago. So you tell me, what has caused this blindness." He shook his head. "I still find it hard to believe that it's all in his head, so to   
speak."  
"I can understand your skepticism, Colonel, but believe me, stranger things than this have happened." He paused, then said. "Forgive me if I think out loud, it might help us both. I haven't had time to study my notes yet, but the pattern that is emerging is that Maddox figures largely in it. But if he's in custody..." He stopped as the silver-haired man shook his head.   
"Nope, he's out on bail. A friend in the police let me know."  
"Ah...that might make a difference. Can you find out for sure whether he was at that restaurant? I'm almost certain he had to be."  
Smith frowned. "Even if he was, how could he make Tem blind? You said yourself, there was no trace of any drugs in his system."  
"Not ordinary drugs, Colonel. I think our young friend there was literally frightened into not being able to see."  
Smith shook his head vehemently. "Not a chance. Tem is neither a coward, nor weak-minded Doctor. Despite his playboy appearance, or when he puts on an act, he's as tough as nails and not easily scared."  
"I believe you, Colonel. You and I both know, however, that fear can cause men - brave men - to do strange things. I understand you were a prisoner of the Viet Cong? You should know more than most, what a sadistic bully, with power over vulnerable men can do to their minds - and self esteem."  
Smith nodded bleakly. He did know, only too well. It wasn't only Murdock who still had nightmares about that prison camp; he wouldn't mind betting that even their tough sergeant had the occasional bad dream about that place. He knew that Face did and so did he, but he couldn't, wouldn't, let himself dwell on such negative feelings.  
"So, what if Maddox was at the restaurant? He didn't physically harm Tem; for one thing, he wouldn't have had time. I was only a few minutes behind him getting there. If there had been any sort of a disturbance, Mario would've seen, or heard it and would have gone to help Tem."  
Pierce rubbed his brow. "Confusing isn't it?" he smiled ruefully.  
"You can say that again," muttered Hannibal, absent-mindedly taking out another cigar and placing it in his mouth. As he brought out his lighter, he paused, staring at the flame, then abruptly snapped the lighter off and tossed the cigar into a wastebasket.  
"Y'know, Doc. I've been smoking those things around Face since we got home after Maggie's initial treatment. He's never so much as blinked when I've lit up, he's certainly never said anything - about me smoking, or not smoking, at any rate."  
Pierce smiled. "He trusts you, that's the reason. He's nervous of smoke from a stranger, but not from you."  
"You think so, Doc? I'd never do anything to hurt him."  
"He knows that, Colonel. He loves you, as much as you love him."  
Smith glanced up quickly, but there was only gentle acceptance of the facts in Pierce's grey eyes. The Colonel felt himself redden a trifle, but as he would never think of denying his love for Tem, or discussing it with a virtual stranger, he shrugged and sat back.  
The silence lasted only a few minutes, but it wasn't an awkward one, more of a companionable interlude while both men thought over what they'd discovered. It was broken by the strident ringing of the telephone, making them both jump. Pierce answered it quickly and spoke briefly to his brother, seemingly about another patient. It served to remind Hannibal that there was a large city behind the doors of this room, where people had their own problems to solve. He had been so involved with his Lieutenant these past weeks, that he was in danger of becoming isolated from the real world which existed outside the comfort of this office.  
Pierce said: "Sorry about that. Stephen's worried about this guy." He paused. "I'll have to see him later today."   
Smith nodded. "We'll go as soon as Face wakes up."  
"That's not necessary Colonel. I have no set hours for clients. If they need more time, that's what they get." He glanced over at the sleeping man on the couch. "He may be a bit disorientated when he wakes up,  
although it wasn't a very strong sedative I gave him."  
Again there was a small silence, which Pierce broke. "I'm almost sure that the key lies in that short space of time before you got to the restaurant. I don't know exactly what at the moment, but we're a lot nearer finding the truth."  
"When we find it, you think Face will be able to see again?" Hannibal asked hopefully.  
"Wish I could guarantee it, Colonel, but I think there's a very good chance."  
Smith sighed. "Can't you lot ever say anything definite?" he grumbled.   
"Yes, of course...well...maybe...most likely...sometime." Pierce laughed aloud at Smith's expression of sheer horror.  
Their levity was cut short by a movement from the couch, as the mane of gold stirred and Face rolled over onto his side. "Hannibal?"  
Smith was by the couch in a split second. "I'm here, Tem." He picked up the nearest slack hand and held it firmly.  
Face's dark lashes fluttered and he lifted heavy lids, blinking softly at the haze which covered most of his Colonel's features. "Hey there, Handsome, what time is it?"  
Smith's worried expression turned to amazed joy as he realised that once again, Face could see him. "Er...early afternoon, how'd you feel?"  
"Tired," muttered Face, his lids drooping closed again.  
Smith twisted round to see Pierce watching them, one eyebrow raised in enquiry. "He can see me," he mouthed.  
Pierce was across the intervening space as if his wheelchair was jet-propelled, watching intently.   
"Face, look at me," coaxed Hannibal, stroking one finger down his lover's lean cheek.  
"Mmm?" Face opened his eyes lazily and smiled up into the worried face above him. "Yes, very nice," he murmured.  
"What is?"  
"Looking at you, of course." Face lifted his hand to touch Smith's lips, smiling as they kissed his fingertips.  
Pierce could witness for himself that Peck was actually seeing Smith's face and his brows drew together in a frown of bewilderment. He kept his silence, not wanting to break the spell for the other two men.  
Still drowsy, Face shifted a little on the couch trying to make himself comfortable again. Hearing the leather cushion squeak as he moved, he frowned, one hand going down to feel the surface upon which he was laid. "Where are we, Hannibal?" he asked, apprehension clear in his tone.  
"We're okay, Face, don't worry."  
"What...what'd you mean?" Face tried to sit up, grasping Smith's arm in a panicky grip, as the haze swirled over him, clouding his Colonel's features.  
"We're in Doctor Pierce's office Tem, don't you remember?"   
"Pierce's office?" Face managed to get up on one elbow, one hand massaging the space between his eyebrows.   
"Yes. You remember?"  
"Pierce? The psychiatrist!" Peck's tone was curiously flat. "Oh yes, I'm beginning to remember - and wish I wasn't."  
Pierce put a steadying hand on Smith's elbow as the Colonel helped Face to sit up.  
"Can you still see the Colonel?" the older man asked.  
"See him?" Face gazed up at Hannibal, still drowsy from his enforced sleep.   
His eyes beginning to squint with the strain of trying to see through the dark veil which again was obscuring his sight. He shook his head, "Not now," he said quietly.  
"You did see him, though, didn't you?" persisted Pierce.  
The fair head nodded, despair in the mute action.   
"What were you feeling, when you saw him?" Pierce asked urgently.  
The tanned shoulders shrugged.  
"Come on, Lieutenant, what did it feel like?" Pierce's voice was raised without him realising it, needing to question the Lieutenant while he was still sleepy and at his lowest resistance.  
"Don't shout at him," Smith snapped, one arm going around the smaller man's half-bare shoulders.  
Pierce ignored the silver-haired man's angry glare, leaning forward intently. "Tell me, Templeton, what were you feeling when you could see the Colonel?"  
Peck roused himself from the torpor which was making his limbs feel like lead. "How'd you think I was feeling?" he retorted, picking up on Smith's anger.  
"That's what I want you to tell me."  
"I don't know. I'm confused." Face did look very confused. "What happened anyway?" He straightened suddenly as a vague memory surfaced. "Did someone give me a Mickey Finn?" he accused.  
"Don't change the subject, Lieutenant. You were about to tell me what you were feeling when you opened your eyes and saw the Colonel," urged Pierce.  
Showing a brief spurt of awareness, Face snapped. "If you must know, I didn't realise I was here when I first woke up, I thought I was safe at home with...with..." He floundered to a halt.  
"With Colonel Smith, yes, I can understand that."  
Peck gulped, then turned his head into Hannibal's shoulder as a pink flush spread over the exposed portions of his face and throat, as he realised Pierce knew of his relationship with Hannibal.  
Hannibal lowered his head to whisper into the nearest fiery ear. "He guessed about us, not to worry, everything's cool."  
Pierce turned away from them and moved to his desk, picking up the short notes he'd made, studying them while he gave the two lovers time to themselves.   
His keen grey eyes moved swiftly through his scribbled handwriting, picking up on a point which caused him to nod in satisfaction.  
He glanced over at the couch and saw Smith sitting with his arms wrapped firmly round his lover's slighter form, whispering something into his ear, which seemed to calm Peck, as the fair head nodded in agreement.  
"Are you both okay?" Pierce asked, trying to keep his tone businesslike, but it was a curiously touching scene he witnessed.   
The fabled leader of the A-Team, who, according to some eyewitnesses, could strike fear into the hearts of dishonest men with merely a look, sat comforting an injured comrade with tender care. The psychiatrist also realised with a faint stab of pleasure, that it was a measure of the trust Smith had in him, that he was allowed to witness such a demonstration of unselfish love.  
The silver head nodded and in a very few moments, Peck was sitting by his Colonel's side, still a little wobbly, but with his head upright, hands folded in his lap, his attitude one of patience.  
"You got anything to tell us, Doc?" Smith's tone was casual, but the wheel chair-bound man could see the tension in the strong frame.  
"Yes. There is a pattern to this returning vision," Pierce said, and smiled gently as Smith tensed even more. He went on without waiting for a reply. "Lieutenant Peck has seen you twice, is that correct?"  
Smith touched his partner's bare arm and Peck nodded. "Yes."  
"Can I ask you? Did you see my face just now?"  
Face frowned, then shook his head slowly. "Can't say that I did," he replied. "There was a greyish haze, I could see Hannibal...but nothing around him."  
"Ah, that seems to prove part of my theory." Pierce felt like rubbing his hands.  
"Which is?" Smith's voice was dangerously quiet and Face tensed. He knew that tone, it boded trouble. He reached out a hand and Smith took it, his tension easing a trifle, as he felt Tem's support.  
"When you can see your Colonel, you feel safe and secure. There is nothing there to worry, or trouble you, am I right?"  
"I suppose so." Peck frowned. "Surely it can't be just a feeling of security. I'm not a child," he sounded righteously indignant.  
"Of course not. I'm not suggesting you are," said Pierce patiently. "Recently, however, you have had a very hard time. Through no fault of your own, you have been brutally treated and threatened."  
Peck remained silent, unwilling to talk on that particular subject.  
"You are just beginning to heal, emotionally, mentally and physically, when someone, or something, from that time reappears." He cocked his head, watching the play of emotion on Peck's expressive countenance. "Yes?"  
"Go on, sounds fascinating," Peck managed, although a cold hand seemed to be closing on his stomach. He felt sick.  
"Can you remember the restaurant?" asked Pierce.  
"Vaguely," Peck frowned, finding it hard to concentrate.   
"Do you know who it was who threatened you?" asked Pierce, mentally crossing his fingers.  
"Threatened me?" Face thought for a moment, then shook his head, his fair hair shimmering in the light.  
"No."  
"You mentioned a name - Maddox?"   
"Maddox?" Face's whole body tensed, his fingers closing on Hannibal's hand with a grip that almost paralysed the older man's hand.  
"You remember what he said to you?"  
Peck's features were ashen and he shivered abruptly. "I'm cold," he murmured.  
Pierce picked up the discarded safari jacket and took it across to the couch, where Smith helped him place it around Peck's shoulders.  
"You were sitting waiting for Hannibal...you ordered a drink," Pierce urged. "Then someone came up to your table."  
Face stared blindly out into the room, the images of a man he hated pulsing in and out of his thoughts. The image solidified and leaned across a table at him. He shrank back. "No," he yelled. "Get him away from me." He shrank further back, coming up against a solid form which he seemed to instantly recognise as his Colonel. "Hannibal, Maddox is out, the damn fools have let him loose."  
"Yes, Tem. I know." Hannibal hugged him tightly, then asked quietly, "What did he do to you?"  
Face shook his head, the words pouring out of him as though he had to get them said before they eluded him again. "He didn't touch me, although he tried. Said it was nice to see me again, made some vile suggestions...something about a beach-house...and his friends having fun." His voice quavered. "I think the waiter came up then, and Maddox leaned over the table... said he'd be seeing me again. I was his for the taking...something like that.." He turned and buried his face in Hannibal's chest, his slender form trembling violently.  
The two older man stared at each other, grim understanding on both faces.  
"Was it shortly after this that your vision started to fade?" asked Pierce, knowing what the answer had to be.  
Now more awake, Face nodded, turning his head slightly. "In the taxi, going home ...I think," he added. He sounded almost objective, though his body still trembled from time to time, as though he were cold.  
"Okay now, try to remember." Pierce said encouragingly. "Did you see someone at the Mall? Is that why you left so quickly?"  
Face lifted his head from the comfort of Hannibal's warm shirt. "I don't know, thought it was just my imagination. I'm not sure now."  
"What was your imagination?" persisted Pierce, wanting all the ghosts to be laid.  
Face rubbed his brow. "Thought I saw them when I was looking for Goofy t-shirts.”  
"See whom?"  
"Svenson and Weinberg," muttered Face, burying his head into his Colonel's shoulder, still not quite sure whether he'd seen the men or not.  
Pierce looked to Smith, one eyebrow lifted.  
"Yeah, another two of Maddox's slime-balls." He shrugged, "Could've been them, they're out as well."  
"Oh God!" came the muffled voice from his chest. "I can't take any more of that, Hannibal. I really can not!"  
His hands clutched desperately at Hannibal's sleeves, anchoring himself to the steadfast rock he knew would always love and support him.  
Smith nuzzled the silky hair, murmuring. "You won't have to, Tem. Don't worry. Now that we know what they're up too, we can fight back."  
Pierce gave a warning headshake. "Careful, Colonel. Don't promise anything you can't deliver. He's in a very fragile state."  
"You think I don't know that?" Hannibal burst out furiously. "I've had to live with that for months..." He bit his lip, he was more strung out than he'd realised. "It was partly my fault he got hurt in the first place, by not doing my own checking up on Maddox and his crew. I won't fail Tem again. You can be sure of that."  
"I don't doubt your sincerity Colonel, but even you cannot guarantee that Mr. Peck will not come across these men again. I'm merely cautioning you against over-optimism."  
There was a surprising interruption from the slumped figure held so securely against Hannibal's chest. "Hannibal? Being over overoptimistic? Doctor, you've never seen him when he's on the jazz. There's one thing that I can guarantee, Hannibal will have a plan." The fair head was lifted a fraction. "Right Colonel?"  
Smith's smile was as wide as the Grand Canyon. "Right, Lieutenant." He threw a grin at Pierce's stunned expression. "I told you, Doc, that's my Lieutenant...smart as new paint and not a cowardly bone in his body."  
The psychiatrist nodded, then smiled. "You told me and I believe it. In fact, Colonel, I'm beginning to believe all the legends about you and your Team."  
There was a soft chuckle from the sleepy Lieutenant, before the green clad bundle snuggled back into his Colonel's warm body and promptly fell asleep.  
Peck woke up about forty-five minutes later still a trifle befuddled. As the two Team-mates prepared to leave, he managed to slip into his jacket without any help, while Hannibal contacted B.A. The sergeant reported that everything was clear and he'd be there in ten minutes.  
Face was clearly disappointed that his sight hadn't returned while he slept, he'd half expected he would be able to see again, once he'd remembered the encounter with Maddox and his men, but it hadn't happened.   
"Try not to expect too much at this stage, gentlemen," Pierce told them sympathetically. "I'm sure it's only a matter of time before your sight returns."   
The grey-eyed psychiatrist then added. "We've discovered the probable cause of your blindness, Lieutenant, but there may be some other factor involved which will be revealed in time." He shrugged at the tall Colonel, who was as disappointed as his partner. "Unfortunately, it's still a waiting game."   
Peck grimaced at this news, the past couple of days had seemed like eons. Nevertheless, he held out his hand towards Pierce's voice. "Thanks for all your efforts, Doc. I do appreciate it... really."  
Pierce grasped the outstretched hand and shook it warmly. "I hope I have been helpful, Templeton and if you need anything at all that I can do, please get in touch. In any case, I'd like to see you again, soon."  
Peck shrugged. "Okay...we'll be around."  
Pierce hung onto his hand for a second longer. "There's just one thing, Lieutenant."  
"Yes?" Peck's tone was a bit apprehensive.  
"How did you know I was twirling a pencil, when you first came in?"  
Face laughed. "I heard it tap on the desk ," he admitted.  
"Ah!" Pierce chuckled ruefully. "Those ears of yours are really very good."  
"Not only his ears," murmured Hannibal, but too softly for the other man to catch.  
He too held out his hand. "Thanks again, Doc...we'll be in touch."

Later that afternoon, Hannibal was ushering his partner through their own front door. After leaving Pierce's office, B.A. had picked them up without incident and driven them back to their apartment building. After dropping off his two colleagues in the basement garage and seen them safely to the elevator, B.A. departed to attend to some of his own concerns, mainly that of the Boy's Club at his neighbourhood Gymnasium.  
As soon as they were inside, Smith locked the door and led Face to the couch, where the younger man settled with a weary sigh of relief.  
"Boy-oh-boy, I'm bushed," he muttered, putting his head back against the sofa cushions.  
Hannibal inwardly agreed. Peck's face was pale and the dark smudges under his bottom lashes seemed more noticeable then before; he was really exhausted with everything that had happened to him this day. He really did need to rest and Hannibal intended that his Lieutenant would do just that.   
“Want to lie down for a while?" he asked, sitting down beside Face and brushing the fair hair off his forehead.  
"Can't be bothered," muttered Face with a weary yawn, which remark made Smith smile.   
"You must be tired if you can't even be bothered to get up to lie down," he teased gently.  
Peck's brows together in a mock frown, "I know that should make sense, but I'm too tired to work it out."  
Smith's grin widened, genuinely pleased that his lover could still take and make jokes after the ordeal of the last few hours. He guessed the after effects of the sedative were also taking their toll.  
"Come on, then," he urged, "come to bed..." adding severely, "to rest, I mean," as Face gave a husky, seductive chuckle.  
"Some days, you ain't no fun at all, Hann'bal," Peck's attempt to continue the banter was spoiled as he gave another huge yawn.  
Shaking his head, Smith pulled the smaller man to his feet, put a supporting arm around his Lieutenant's narrow waist and led him into the bedroom.  
Peck sat on the side of the bed, tamely allowing Smith to divest him of his outer clothes, then clad only in his brief shorts, he sank into the mattress and curled onto his side, asleep before Hannibal had pulled the sheet over him.  
Smith stood for a few moments by the bedside watching his lover, a very affectionate smile on his face. He felt heartened at Peck's much improved mood, things didn't seem quite so black as earlier in the day. Leaning down, he planted a chaste kiss on the sleeping man's brow, tucked the cotton sheet more securely around the slender figure and left the room.  
Tossing his jacket on the couch, the tall Colonel went into the kitchen and prepared himself some coffee. Leaving the liquid to bubble cheerfully in the percolator, he went to the phone and dialled the number of the V.A. Hospital. He wanted to check on Murdock; since being told about Face's condition, the pilot, for one usually so verbose, had been uncharacteristically quiet and Hannibal was worried about him.  
He was soon put through to the Captain's room and Murdock assured his leader that he was okay. He had a new 'shrink' to play with and was trying out some of his different personas on the unsuspecting man.  
"How's our Facie doing, Colonel?" The pilot asked in his own voice, which told more than anything of his anxiety over his best friend.   
"Not too bad, Murdock," replied Smith cautiously. "He's asleep at the moment, it's been a bit hectic for him today."  
"Any progress?" asked Murdock.  
"A little," said Smith, not wanting to build up the pilot's hopes until he had something definite to tell him. "At least he talked to Pierce this afternoon, which is a definite plus."  
"Yeah, I guess." Murdock's tone was doubtful. He liked to play word games with his own doctors, it was stimulating, but knew his friend didn't quite have the same outlook. Peck liked to talk, but he liked to be in control of the conversation and the situation.  
"I'll be going out tomorrow on a day trip to Disneyland, I'll drop by if I can."  
"Okay, Captain, be careful, you-know-who is still out there."  
"Wilco, Colonel, give Facie my best regards...over and out."  
Hannibal was smiling as he put the phone down. Murdock could always make him smile.  
Just as he was pouring his coffee, the phone rang again and Smith went to answer it. It was Inspector Maloney.  
"Oh, Hi there, Ed. How're you doin'?"  
"Not bad, just a sec." There was a pause and Smith heard muffled voices, then the faint sound of traffic and realised that Maloney was being careful and using a public phone.  
"Hey, Hannibal, you there?"  
"Still here," admitted the Colonel, reaching for his coffee mug.  
"Sorry 'bout the delay. Had to get rid of my sergeant." The police inspector cleared his throat then went on. "I've got a bit of info on a certain piece of garbage we both know, thought you might like to hear it."  
"Sure would," Smith forgot about his coffee. "Where and when?"  
"I have to go to San Diego tomorrow morning, probably be there a couple of days. Can you meet me at the bar, in about half an hour, or as soon as you can?"  
Smith thought swiftly. The bar Ed mentioned was where they'd first met, it would take him twenty, twenty-five minutes, to get there, if the traffic was in his favour. He didn't like leaving Face alone, but Ed wouldn't have rung if it hadn't been important.  
"I don't really like leaving Face, but if that's all you can manage?"  
"'Fraid so, I have to meet another guy at eight."  
Making up his mind, Smith replied. "Okay, see you in thirty minutes."  
Going into the bedroom, Hannibal approached the bed quietly, noting that Face had wriggled clear of the sheet which was now caught around his hips and was lying on his back, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other lying across his middle. The gleam of golden flesh against the dark blue sheet made Smith's eyes twinkle admiringly and catch his breath at the innocent abandon in the sprawled figure.   
Seating himself on the mattress, he shook his sleeping lover gently by one bare shoulder, "Face, wake up, kid."  
There was a heavy sigh and the fair head rolled towards him, but no other indication of awareness was manifested.  
Smith smiled again, wishing he didn't have to rush out, all his instincts were to discard his own clothes and nestle into the bed beside his lover. Taking a grip on his racing pulse, Hannibal shook Face again.  
"Tem, come on...wake up."  
"Why?" demanded Peck crossly.  
"I have to go out for an hour. Will you be okay till I get back?"  
Peck blinked himself awake. "Trouble?" he asked anxiously, trying to look alert.  
"No...nothing like that." Smith debated with himself about telling Face the reason, then decided against it. Peck would want to come with him and he didn't want to risk his lover's safety if they ran foul of the military, or police. Face would be much safer here and he'd ring B.A. or Murdock and tell them, so that if he was delayed, they would come and look after his Lieutenant until he got back.  
"I'll be back - hour, hour and a half at most. Okay?"  
"If you say so, Colonel. I'll be okay," his sensual mouth crooked into a wry grin. "After all, I won't be going anywhere, will I?" He reached up a hand and stroked the side of Smith's face, "You take care, now, you hear me, Hannibal?"  
"Loud and strong, Tem, my love." Smith leaned further down and kissed the waiting lips tenderly, then patted the tanned shoulder, pulled the sheet up around his lover's bare torso and reluctantly left the room.  
It took Smith only a few minutes to raise B.A. on the telephone, he explained the situation and Baracus said he was on his way to pick his commander up, ignoring Smith's remark that it wasn't necessary, he'd take the Vette, or get a cab. Baracus wasn't about to allow his leader to go alone to a meeting with a policeman, no matter how much Smith trusted said policeman.  
Eventually Smith sighed and agreed.   
Truth be told, he would be glad of the big sergeant's stalwart presence and he wouldn't need to worry about parking. While he waited the few minutes for B.A. to get to the apartment, he telephoned the V.A. - again getting through to Murdock without any hassle. Telling the pilot the latest news, Smith asked if Murdock could check in with Face, by telephone if not in person.  
"Don't worry, Colonel. I can get out through my secret passageway."  
"Oh?" Smith paused, then intrigued asked: "What secret passage?" This was the first he'd heard of it.  
"The one under the stove in the kitchen," the pilot assured him, in a clipped British accent. "Two hundred and fifty of us are getting out tonight. Big X has A-Okayed it."  
Finding himself once again in Wonderland at the Mad Hatter's Tea Party, Smith went with the flow. "No, no Captain, only you have to get out... leave the rest until the dark of the moon."  
"If you think that would be better, Sir."  
"Yes, yes, I do," declared Smith firmly.  
"Don't worry, Hannibal. If necessary, I'll get out and take care of Facie." The pilot's voice had regained it's normal tone.  
"All right, but don't get into trouble."  
"Is that the famed Colonel Hannibal Smith, talking about getting into trouble? Pardon me while I retire laughing." Murdock made a whooshing noise and replaced the receiver.  
Smith looked at the phone in his hand for a moment, then shrugged and went down to meet B.A.   
Despite Murdock's crazy attitude, he knew he could trust his Captain with Face's safety.

Smith had been gone for almost thirty minutes, when Peck stirred. He hadn't gone straight back to sleep, but lain half-dozing, luxuriantly in the fact of his Colonel's love, the touch of Hannibal's lips still warming his own.  
Turning over onto his back, he stretched out, feeling the smooth cotton of the sheet, he felt much more relaxed and not as weary as before. That damn sedative must be wearing off, he thought with relief. He didn’t like feeling befuddled and half dazed, especially when the Team were on the alert.  
Opening his eyes, he stared up at the ceiling and it was a few seconds before he realised he could see a lightness that hadn’t been there when he’d awakened earlier.  
Lifting a hand, he rubbed at his eyes and sat up slowly. There was a definite light and he realised it was coming from the direction of the sliding glass doors that led out onto the little veranda and the steps leading up to the roof garden.  
Blinking cautiously, Peck slid off the bed and feeling for his robe, slipped his arms into the sleeves and belted the silk material around his waist.   
He couldn’t make out any particular shapes, but made his slow way to the large glass doors and fumbling just a little, slid them open, the muted roar of the traffic sounding louder now.  
A longing to go outside and stand in the garden proved irresistible and he stepped out onto the veranda, already making his excuses to Hannibal; that he knew the way blindfolded and there was no way he could fall over the edge, as there was a four foot stone wall around the small garden.  
Filling his lungs with the cooler air, Face smiled to himself, thinking what a wonderful surprise it would be for Hannibal to see him walking unaided and with his sight restored. He was quite certain that he would be able to see Hannibal when his lover returned. It was just as the Doctor had said, when he was safe and secure, he could see his lover.  
Feeling for the handrail, Face took his first few unaided steps to freedom since that terrible day at Mario’s.  
He reached the top without stumbling and still staring up at the sky, made his way to the centre of the garden, where he and Hannibal had stood many times, feeling the warmth of the setting sun against his skin.  
Perching his silk clad bottom on the low stone wall surrounding the flower bed, Face sighed with a trace of relief and contentment.  
He had been there about five minutes, when he cocked his head to one side, he thought he heard a sound from the apartment.  
Oh Boy! If that was Smith, the Colonel would give him hell. Oh well, might as well make the most of it while he could, he was gonna be grounded like a teenager in any case.   
With a mischievous grin, which made him look like a school-kid playing hookey, he settled back, lifting his head again, filling his lungs with the still warm evening air, half expecting Smith's voice booming out, scolding him for being reckless. He smiled, maybe he could charm his irate commander into a better mood. That erotic thought kept him occupied for another few minutes; then he shifted, hearing another faint sound.  
Frowning a little, he listened, but the sound had stopped. Trying to shake off a sudden feeling of unease, Face turned his head again and heard the street noises; the wail of a siren, either an ambulance or police car, and gave an involuntary shudder. He suddenly became aware of how isolated it was up here: sure he could hear the traffic, but it was a long way off.  
He tensed, his sensitive hearing again catching a sound which didn't belong. The noise came again and Face realised with icy foreboding that it couldn't be Hannibal, the Colonel would've been out onto the roof like a rocket, looking for him. The evidence of the open glass doors would be all that was needed for anyone to find him. Anyone? Suddenly, the air seemed a lot colder and Face shivered. Maybe it wasn't his lover, or any of his friends. Murdock and B.A. both had keys to his apartment and wouldn't need to sneak around anyway.  
He gripped the ledge he was sitting on, realising that it was now quite cold without the sun to warm the stones, his buttocks and thighs were becoming chilled. He froze as a faint scuffle on the steps caught his attention, it sounded like someone trying to be quiet. Face slid off the cold wall, praying that it was Murdock playing a joke, but he knew that the Captain wouldn't think of scaring him in the present situation.  
Thinking frantically, he got his mental bearings and, trailing a hand along the wall, made his way to the rear of the roof garden. He knew there were shrubs there, maybe he could hide until whoever it was either went away, or Hannibal came back. It went against the grain to hide, but he was no match for anyone like this.  
He jumped as something cold touched his cheek, then relaxed as he felt another leafy branch brush his hair. He'd reached the shrubs, now where was Murdock's favourite fern, that was the leafiest.  
His bare toes stubbed against a ceramic pot, which if he remembered rightly, spilled over with scented yellow roses. Cursing under his breath, he bent to rub his foot and felt the swish of moving air just where his head had been. He ducked lower, his breath catching in his throat as he waited for the next blow, straining his ears to hear. Except for the muted sound of the traffic in the street below, there was silence all about him. Maybe it had been another branch, but the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise.  
Standing half crouched among the flowering shrubs, his fair hair gleaming in the last rays of the setting sun, Peck was unaware of the dark shadow which stalked him, malicious glee in the dark eyes watching his every movement, relishing the fact that his prey couldn't see.  
Growing tired of waiting, the shadow moved again, coming up behind the robe-clad figure, one hand reaching out to touch his victim's shoulder.  
Swinging round faster than the prowler thought possible, Peck struck out with a hard fist, hitting the stalker across the side of the head, hard enough to make him halt. A low snarl broke from the thin lips. "Ah, still got some fight left, that's good, that's very good."  
The whisper froze Face for a split second, then he moved towards the front of the garden again, realising he was a sitting duck and the best chance he had was in the apartment: if he could only reach the phone, help would arrive in a few minutes.  
"Not so fast, pretty boy," the eerie whisper came again, this time to his right side. "Let's enjoy the view."  
Peck stopped, fingers clenched in helpless defiance. "Who is that?" he demanded sharply, then without waiting for an answer, he moved as fast as he dared, straight for the top of the steps which led down to the comparative safety of the apartment.  
"Wal’, you should know who it is, we are, after all, on fairly intimate terms. I’m your date for the evening." The voice sniggered and the Lieutenant went cold inside. He knew the evil source of that laugh and the acrid smell of cigarette smoke that was blown into his face. Oh God in Heaven - Petersen!   
The light had gone from the sky and from Peck's wide open eyes. He was lost again in darkness and terror.  
"How did you get up here?" By sheer effort of will, Peck kept his voice steady.  
"Could say we've been watching the place for a coupl’a days - just waiting...y’know how it is when you can't wait to get reacquainted with someone you want." Petersen lifted his hand touching Peck's cheek and laughed mockingly as it was knocked away in disgust.  
"Don't touch me." warned Peck.  
"Now then, just how’re you gonna stop me? It's just you and me - all alone up here, no-one to interrupt us, no line of guys waiting for their turn."   
Peck shuddered at the gloating tone in the other's voice and edged around the stone wall, trying desperately to remember the layout of the garden.   
"I don't believe you, you couldn't have found this place two days ago, we weren't here," bluffed Peck, ignoring the other man's suggestive words.  
"Smart ain’t you? That’s okay, I like ‘em smart, but not too sassy." The voice changed again, became hard. "We picked you up in midtown coming out of that fancy doctor's place, you ill, boy? That'd be a shame, spoil our fun."  
Peck edged further away.   
"Where're you going, sweetpie? Don't leave."   
A rough hand caught Face's shoulder swinging him round and something touched his bare chest. He recoiled, stumbled, biting his lip against the pain as his hip thudded into the metal railing. Metal? Hell, that meant he was off course, he needed to be over to his left, or was it his right. Shit! That rail went round two sides of the garden; his assailant swinging him around like that, he'd lost his bearings completely.  
Half crouching, Peck swung out his hand, but it met only empty air and a malevolent giggle made him realise that he was being played with; with a faint shiver of fear, knew that he was helpless to stop the macabre game.  
For what seemed an eternity, Peck had to endure a series of taps, blows and smoke puffed into his face until he was gasping for breath and completely disorientated. Some of the blows were light, some really hurt. There would be long pauses, when he thought his tormentor might have gone, but just as he started to hope and uncurl from his defensive crouch, hard fingers would tangle in his hair, then trail down his neck and back. When he swung round to retaliate, they would let him go, only to reappear again, pulling loose the belt of his robe, touching his cheek with both fleshy hand and the cold metal of gun or knife. Hands touched him again, cruel fingers gripping both shoulders, pulling him up and forward until demanding lips forced themselves on his unwilling mouth with brutal force. Not a kiss, it was a demonstration of power and possession.  
Face cried out in loathing and spat out the vile taste of the rapist's greedy tongue and smoke-filled breath. "Get away from me, you rotten piece of slime, I know it's you, Petersen. I hope you rot in hell."  
He pushed the figure in front of him back with all his waning strength and to his surprise, he was freed so quickly he stumbled and fell, hitting his shoulder against the wall, ending up sprawled on his back.  
Stifling a cry of pain, Face waited for the hands to touch him again. Knowing who the attacker was made him feel less vulnerable, but also increased his fear. He hated Maddox and all his gang, but it was the cold-eyed, evil-minded, Petersen who filled him with dread.  
"That's a pretty erotic picture, you lying there with that robe all rucked up, showing off your expensive silk shorts. I really go for guys with long legs and yours go all the way up to your crack, and beyond." Petersen smacked his lips lasciviously and Peck shuddered.   
There was a pause then the dark-featured man went on remorselessly, "The rest of your...assets are quite marketable too. Get quite a good price for you in the Eastern market. In my opinion, you have the most fuckable ass I've seen in a long time; so firm and round on the outside, so juicy and tight on the inside - there's plenty of mileage there - better than any skirt I've been with. I'm gonna enjoy that again."   
The mocking laugh lifted the hairs on the back of Face's neck and he shuddered anew, as fingers swept down his side and along the length of his bare thighs, exposed by the ruffled robe.  
"It's really a pity that Maddox goes for the same type, I wouldn't mind keeping you for myself - but still, sometimes it's fun to share." Hands patted Peck's lower limbs again, then the gloating voice continued. "My Boss will be thrilled to learn that you can't see - now isn't that a shame, you won't be able to watch yourself on the video monitor, but I'm sure we can describe it to you, we wouldn't want you to miss out - on anything."  
There was the harsh sound of the man's increased breathing and hands seized Peck, lifting him a few inches off the ground and a hot mouth bit at his throat, causing Peck to almost choke. Then he was dropped back against the wall. There was a faint rustle of clothing and Face waited in dread for his assailant's next move. He braced himself, trying to get to his feet, anything rather than just lie there and let that slime-ball rape him, but his struggles were feeble and uncoordinated, and he sank back with a low, distressed cry.  
The sweat was running in rivulets down his back and chest, soaking his robe; which seemed odd, as he felt cold as ice. His heart pounding as loud as a drum in his ears, Face waited in agonised suspense for that first touch that would send him insane. He clenched his fists, Petersen wouldn't go unscathed, he would fight until every breath was expended before he gave in to that bastard.   
With any luck, he would so enrage the hit-man, that Petersen would kill him. Save him facing Hannibal's embarrassed pity; for surely even his beloved Colonel wouldn't be so eager to keep him after this second sexual assault.  
After a few minutes without a sound of any kind except the frantic beating of his heart, Face began to hope that Petersen had left, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't hear any breathing, but the slight breeze rustled the leaves of the plants might cover the sound. He strained his ears, but nothing came to them. He feared that Petersen was toying with him, just waiting until he relaxed before pouncing on him again.  
It wasn't until he had sat there, frozen with cold and helpless fear for almost ten minutes, that he at last let himself hope that Petersen had gone. He didn't know why his tormentor had left, maybe it was just another game to the sick bastard, but whatever the reason, Petersen had gone.  
Face gave a strangled sob of relief and pulling up his knees, wrapped his trembling arms around them, trying to regain some control. He was shaking like a leaf in a gale, his head was full of sounds, Petersen's detested voice and vile words ringing in his ears; he felt dizzy and thought he was going to be sick. Bending forward, he put his head on his raised knees and willed the sickness away.  
When the nausea had passed, he still sat there, feeling too drained to move, wishing with all his heart that Hannibal would return. He needed to feel the strength and security of his lover's arms about him. Every bone and muscle in his body was aching and he could practically feel the bruises forming on his shoulders, arms and legs, where that swine had either hit him, or bounced him off the wall. He lifted one hand and scrubbed furiously at his mouth, trying to wipe away the touch of Petersen's lips. That memory was enough to make anyone sick - and what did the drug-runner mean about watching video? He shook his head, it was too much to take in right now, he'd have to ask his Colonel.  
He was still sitting there, growing colder and colder when he heard sounds from the apartment. He tensed, trying to merge with the wall, when he heard Smith's voice: "Oh God, no." Then it was raised in a frantic shout. "Face, Face, where are you?"  
Peck's lips moved, but no sound came out. Frowning, he tried again. "Hannibal..." but the weak whisper couldn't be heard more than a few feet away.  
He tried to rise to his feet and found he couldn't move, his legs seemed frozen together. This wouldn't do, he had to make Smith hear, but the effort proved too much and his head dropped onto his knees again.  
The Colonel searched the apartment quickly, checking each room, dread in his heart at the sight that might meet his eyes.   
Smith had met up with the Inspector and gave the other man a brief commentary on what had occurred in the restaurant, as far as he knew it. Maloney had been horrified and stuttered his apologies and sympathy. After hearing Maloney’s news, however, Hannibal had raced back to the van, telling B.A. to step on it. His haste had been the result of hearing that Maddox was in deep trouble with the other drug barons and was getting ready to skip out on his bail.   
Ever since hearing that Maddox and his chief helpers were out on bail, Smith had felt uneasy, worried that Maddox would make a try for Face sooner rather than later; fearing that this might be the time, he urged B.A. to make the van fly.   
Baracus had needed no urging as his commander told him in jerky sentences what he'd learned from their friendly police inspector.  
Smith's worst fears had been realised when he'd got to the door and seen that the lock had been forced. Waving B.A. on to check the rest of the floor, he'd entered the home he'd shared with Face for these many weeks, hope and fear alternating in his chest for supremacy.  
Now standing in the lounge, Smith paused as he saw the glass doors were partly open. Drawing his gun, he made swiftly for the stone steps and made his cautious, but swift way to the roof.  
Pausing on the top step, his ice-blue eyes swept quickly over the garden. The sun had set and the normally pretty garden was bathed in a kind of pearly twilight, which might have proved interesting at some other time, but Smith had no time to appreciate his junior officer's pride and joy.   
His eyes swung suddenly to a point a little to his right, where he could see the pale glimmer of one bare foot. With a half-strangled cry of "Face...no..." he sprang forward and rounded the low wall, to see the curled up form of his lover crouched against the wall, fair head resting on his bent knees.  
Moving as if in a nightmare, Hannibal crouched beside Face, one hand going out, a bit unsteadily, to touch the blond hair.  
He felt the faint shiver in the silent form and his heart started to beat again as he lifted Peck's chin. "Tem, Honey...are you hurt?"  
Feathery dark lashes lifted and fearful green eyes peered blindly up at Smith. "Hannibal?"  
"Yes, it's me. Oh Tem...thank God..." He paused, about to ask what had happened when he became aware of the violent shaking of the slim body under his hands. "Come on, let's get you downstairs. You're freezing."  
"I..I..know." Face tried again to rise, but his limbs just wouldn't co-operate. "I can't seem to move," he said, between chattering teeth.  
Smith moved the locked hands from around the upraised knees, placing one around his own neck, then sliding his hands under Peck's shivering body, lifted the smaller man into his arms and made for the steps.  
Sitting Tem down on the couch, Smith closed the veranda doors and went back to his Lieutenant, who was trying to work his cold fingers into some semblance of normal use.  
As Smith got his first clear look at his lover, he stared in horrified surprise at the trail of red that was making it's slow way down the front of Peck's fair-skinned chest.  
"Tem, what-the-hell happened? You are hurt."  
"Just...just a few bruises, I think," the younger man whispered, only now beginning to believe that he was safe, "I hit the wall pretty hard."  
"That's not a bruise," said Smith more sharply than he intended and Peck shrank back, still too shaken by his ordeal to bear any hint of anger.  
"I'm...I'm sorry, Hannibal..." he murmured, thinking he was in trouble for being on the roof in the first place, not really taking in what his Colonel ‘s words.  
Smith took a calming breath, the blood was real, but he could see that Face was more shocked than he wanted to believe. "You've got nothing to be sorry about, kid. I didn't mean to snap, I was worried."  
Peck's fair head shook, "I'm sorry you were worried," he said.  
"Can you stand up for a minute?" Smith asked, getting a hand under Peck's elbow.  
Peck wobbled to his chilled, bare feet. "Yes..." he said.  
"Good, let me take a look at this..." He stripped off Peck's robe and paled as he saw the long line of red which marked a wound made by a very sharp, thin-bladed knife. It ran down the centre of Peck's chest, almost to his naval and although shallow, was bleeding.  
"What? What is it?" asked Peck, not really interested, he felt quite strange. He could hear Hannibal, could feel the warm, strong hands on his skin, but his mind was numb and the floor seemed to be slipping from under his feet.  
"A shallow knife wound," replied his lover, busily examining the cut.  
"Oh?" Peck's hand felt for his chest. "Funny, thought it was sweat," and folded up, slumping unconscious into Hannibal's arms.  
Smith swore with frustration and worry as he caught the slight figure and laid him down on the couch. Checking the pulse in his lover's throat, he was relieved to find it beating steadily and decided that it was a faint, probably brought on by stress, rather than anything seriously medical, at least he hoped so. Taking the opportunity, he went rapidly over the half nude body, making sure there were no other wounds. His tension eased a trifle when he saw that despite being bruised in various places, his Lieutenant hadn't any serious external injuries. His lips tightened as he saw the darkening love-bite bruise on his lover's throat: that, together with the bloody furrow scored down Peck's upper body, looked to Hannibal like marks of possession and he didn't like the implications of that, not at all.  
He was just returning from the bathroom with the First Aid box to clean his Lieutenant's wounds, when he was interrupted by the solid figure of B.A. coming through the door at speed.  
"What's up?" he asked, tensely, putting the box down beside the couch and reaching for his gun.  
The big man held his automatic loosely in his right hand and reported simply. "We've got cops in the street, Hannibal, just a couple in a squad car, but they seem to be looking for somebody."  
"Damn!" Smith looked down at his partner, this couldn't have come at a more awkward time.  
Baracus looked down at his fair-haired colleague, noticing the red mark down his chest. "Face hurt bad?"  
"No, I don't think so, he's had a bad experience, someone has been trying to scare the daylights out of him by the look of things."  
"Maddox!" B.A.'s lip curled menacingly. "Wait till I get ma hands on that crud."  
"Don't know who it was, B.A. - but Face is cold and shocked." Smith thought furiously. "We'd better get outta here for the time being, see if those cops being here is a coincidence..or..."  
"Or looking for us," finished B.A. grimly.  
"Were they actually in the building?" The Colonel asked, tucking his gun away.  
"No, but I could see one talking on the radio."  
"Get the bags, B.A., I'll get something warm to wrap Face in, we haven't time to bring him round now, or get him dressed."  
Baracus nodded, knowing that each of the Team kept a small flight-bag of necessities packed at all times, in case of such emergencies and went towards the hall cupboard, as his commander moved to the bedroom. Both men returned almost simultaneously, B.A. with their kit, Smith with a lightweight quilt, which he proceeded to wrap round his partner's still unconscious body.  
"Better go check the street again, B.A. see if those cops have moved, use the two-way."  
"Right, Colonel." Baracus picked up the two bags slinging them over his muscular shoulders, tucked the First Aid box under his arm and still holding his gun ready, exited through the door, pausing briefly to check the corridor, before he disappeared.  
Smith waited quietly, watching for any sign of returning consciousness from his Lieutenant. He didn't like having to move so quickly when Peck was incapacitated, but he didn't have much choice.   
Five minutes later, his small two-way radio bleeped and he switched it on. "The cops are still there, Hannibal, looks like they're waiting for reinforcements."  
"Okay, Sergeant, get to the van. I'll meet you in the basement garage. Five minutes. Okay?"  
"Okay, Colonel..."  
Smith quickly stuffed the radio into his safari jacket pocket which he hadn't had time to take off, and turned to his partner.  
Within a couple of minutes, he had Peck comfortably settled across his shoulders in a fireman's lift, leaving his hands free.  
"Okay, Lieutenant," he spoke softly to his unconscious burden, "here we go again."  
Luck held all the way to the basement, he didn't meet anyone on the back stairs and there was no-one parked near the van, which B.A. had positioned in front of the exit doors. It took only a few more minutes for Smith to lift Face into the back and close the door, jumping quickly into his usual front seat beside B.A.  
"Take it slow and easy, Sergeant, we're respectable citizens going about our lawful business." Despite their predicament, Smith grinned at B.A.'s sour look.  
"Man...that'll be the day," muttered the sergeant, and drove sedately out into the soft evening air.  
As soon as they were sure they weren’t being followed, Smith used the van phone to alert Murdock and arrange to pick up their Captain from the V.A. grounds, which they did without any trouble.  
Face came round as they waited for Murdock to make his stealthy way to the parked van and although he recognised Smith's voice, he was dazed and uncoordinated. He tried vainly to free himself from the duvet wrapped around him and became distressed when he couldn't move.   
The Colonel climbed through to the rear and gently reassured him, one hand stroking the disheveled blond mane, while he freed his lover from the restricting folds of the down-filled quilt, then cradled the quivering form in his arms, whispering soft words of love and comfort.  
When Murdock jumped boisterously into the van, making for his usual seat, Face tensed, clutching at Hannibal's arm with bruising force and only relaxed when he heard the Captain's voice, "Hey there, how's my favourite Faceman?" and familiar, gentle fingers ruffling his hair.  
"Murdock," the Lieutenant sighed in relief and sank back in his Colonel's arms, eyes closing, as he tried to still his hammering heart. It wasn't any fault of Murdock's, as the Captain wasn't yet aware of the recent circumstances, but Face couldn't forget the events of the last few hours and every unexpected sound made him feel nervous and dizzy.  
He felt sick to his stomach every time he remembered Petersen's words, his skin still crawling with the touch of the evil-minded gunman who had caused him such misery.  
Murdock was full of anxious questions, which Hannibal did his best to answer, but Face was still clearly upset and the Captain realised that any explanations would have to wait, so reluctantly moved forward to take his leader's front seat, leaving the older man to comfort their younger friend.   
As soon as they cleared the city limits, Smith had B.A. stop the van so they could tend to Peck's wounds. Face was still pale and felt very shaky, but seemed more alert, which was a good sign, but it also meant that he was fully aware of the sharp sting of the wound on his chest and the various other scrapes and bruises marring his fair skin.   
Smith lost no time in treating the long red scratch with antiseptic, glad to see that he'd been correct in the knife wound being shallow, as it had already stopped bleeding. With Murdock's quiet assistance, it didn't take long to clean the rest of his Lieutenant's thankfully, minor injuries.   
They stopped once more in order to buy groceries and other essentials they would need for what might prove to be a prolonged stay and for Hannibal to phone ahead and reserve a two-bedroom cabin at the Lake Success Holiday Village. It was a family-run concern they'd used once before and catered mostly for fishermen and people wanting peace and quiet. He wanted to make sure that there was a cabin available and make arrangements to collect the key in case the Reception Office was closed. He was assured by the cheerful voice on the other end of the phone, that both Reception and the Camp Store were open for twenty-four hours, so whatever time they arrived would be no problem. Thanking him warmly, Smith gave a tired grin and soon after, they turned on to the interstate, heading north. 

By the time they reached Bakersfield and turned off onto the road leading to Lake Success, it was well after midnight and Face was feeling very tired and quite aggrieved. Every time he leaned back in his seat, the bruises on his back and shoulders burned and chafed. Even padded with the duvet, he could feel every bump and jolt, which not only made him feel uncomfortable, but also downright irritable. It was a relief to them all, when the black van pulled up in front of their allotted cabin and they could all get out and stretch cramped and aching muscles..  
Finally settled on the long couch in the safety of the cabin, Face, still dressed in shorts and robe, with the duvet draped around his shoulders, was feeling even more belligerent. He couldn't sit, or lie down with any degree of comfort and when he realised that he didn't have any clothes to change into, except what was in his emergency bag, he became very sarcastic with his Colonel.   
"I know we're going casual here, Hannibal, but I think a few eyebrows will be raised at me walking around in a pair of under-shorts and a checked shirt."  
"Looks fine to me," murmured Smith, which earned him a snort of disgust and a toss of the Lieutenant's long blond mane.  
Murdock tried to divert his friend. "It'll be okay, Face-guy, we could go swimming, they'll look just like bathing trunks..."   
Face snorted, "Who're you trying to kid, Murdock?" he said sharply.   
There was a short, uncomfortable silence, which was broken by Face. "You know very well, they'll look nothing like bathing trunks. Even if they did, how long d'you think we could swim? We have to come out to eat, and anyhow,” he paused, then added straight-faced, “we'll get all wrinkly like prunes.”  
The others relaxed a fraction and Smith silently applauded his junior officer. For a moment there, he thought that Face was really going to lose his temper, but it looked as though his Lieutenant's sense of humour had survived - that and the affection that existed between the two younger men, had saved the day.  
To keep his partner happy, Smith sent Murdock to buy a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts for Face at the Camp store, which was indeed still open.  
Murdock departed on his errand, with dire warnings ringing in his ears from his friend, who was feeling frustrated and angry that he couldn't choose for himself.  
"Mind you get some that match within at least the same shade range, Murdock," called Peck, not relishing wearing the Captain's zany choice of colour, "or I'll pull the plug on that game of yours at the V.A."  
"That's mean, Oh Facial One..." began the pilot.  
"You haven't seen mean yet, Murdock, if you bring back anything purple or orange...and don't think I won't know...because I will." warned Peck.   
"Okay, okay..." said Murdock, backing away from the irate Lieutenant, "There's some folk you just can't please..." but he was relieved to hear his friend was feeling well enough to criticise.   
He returned with three pairs of blue jeans and a couple of soft cotton shirts, checked mainly in greens and blues.  
Face questioned Hannibal and B.A. separately about the colours and only when he was satisfied they were telling the truth, did he promise not to wipe off his friend's fantastic score on the video game. Murdock didn't really think his friend would've carried out his threat, but with Face, you could never tell when he was serious, or not, with anything to do with clothes.  
"Sorry they didn't have any designer labels, Facie," said Murdock, as he watched his friend's nimble fingers examine the clothes.   
"Hmm. Have to have a word with the owner, he needs a new buyer for that store," said Face absently, feeling the soft material of the shirts. He was feeling a lot calmer, outwardly at least and determined to make an effort to behave as normally as he could, even if his nerves were strung as tight as piano wire.  
"So you approve my choice, Muchacho?"  
"Yeah, I guess so," smiled Face, realising that Murdock desperately wanted to help him. "What other colours did they have in the shirts?" he asked guilelessly.  
"Er...oh well..." Murdock hedged, unwilling to admit the truth, that the small store only had those shirts in the colours he'd bought. "Blue and yellow and maybe red...I think."  
"Aha..." nodded Face, "just as I thought, you didn't choose these, did you? They were the only colours they had - right?"  
"How'd you do it, man?" The pilot's voice was awestricken. "I know you're a connoisseur where clothes are concerned Facie, but how'd you guess?" He shook his head, "That's really scarifying y'know..." He threw himself down onto the couch beside Peck and rested a long arm on the back of the sofa. "I wanted to get you a surprise present," he confided. "I saw this lovely pair of pants, orange and purple, but the guy said they were too big. I guess even B.A. would get lost in them."  
Face threw up his hands, scattering the clothes. "I rest my case," he said in satisfaction.  
Murdock grinned, well pleased with his attempts to cheer up his best friend.  
The sound of voices broke into their soft laughter as Smith and B.A. came into the room.  
"What's the joke?" asked the Colonel, throwing a questioning glance at the dark-haired Captain.  
"Facie is just questioning my taste in clothes," grinned the pilot.  
"Well, that shouldn't take long, you don't have any," replied Smith, quickly pinching out the cigar burning between his lips, throwing a guilty look in his Lieutenant's direction.  
Murdock joined in the general chuckle of amusement, but his keen eyes had seen his leader's gesture and he had a very thoughtful look on his face as he got to his feet.  
"Everything secure, Colonel?" he asked, knowing Smith and Baracus had been checking around outside.  
"Yeah," Smith said, "no-one around." He went across to his Lieutenant and sat down in Murdock's vacated seat. "How're you doing, Face?"  
The broad shoulders rose in a weary shrug. "Okay, I guess."  
"You hungry?"  
The fair head shook a negative. "Not really, could do with a drink though."  
Smith looked round, "Anyone else?"  
B.A. nodded. "Yep...think I'll rustle me up a couple of steaks."  
Murdock cringed. "Er, B.A. we don't have any steaks. Hamburgers and fries do you?"  
Baracus scowled. "Suppose they'll have too."  
"Right," Murdock brightened. "Hamburgers for three, coffee for three and one milk for the Big Guy."  
Receiving no dissenters, he moved to the kitchen area and started to bang pots and pans around, happily taking on the personality of 'ze great chef'.  
The coffee ready, he brought the mugs and a glass of milk back to his friends, only to find that Face was leaning against Smith, legs curled up, eyes closed.  
Murdock put the small tray of liquid refreshment down on the table and bent over his friend, touching his shoulder gently. "Face, you want this coffee?"  
"Um?" Face's dark eyelashes flickered and he straightened up from his slumped position, putting his feet back down on the floor.  
"Coffee?" Murdock repeated.  
"Oh...thanks..." Face put out a hand and Murdock hastily put the mug into his grasp.  
Smith reached for his own coffee and sat sipping it, thoughtfully watching his lover. It was very late now and he knew that Peck should be resting, his Lieutenant had had a very heavy day.  
Murdock must've been thinking the same, because the pilot spoke softly to his friend. "It's awfully late, Facie...why don't you turn in for the night, or what's left of it at any rate."  
"I'm okay." Face sipped his coffee, trying not to yawn, finding it increasingly difficult to stay alert.  
"Sure you are..." agreed Murdock, "but there's nothing to stay awake for. As soon as I've fed the Hungry Titan, here, I'll be curling up in my little bunk too."  
"Hey, what you callin' me?" growled B.A. who was standing by the window, glass of milk lost in his huge fist.  
"Nothing bad, B.A." Murdock pacified, "I said Titan...that's a mighty er...mighty..."   
"Giant?" suggested Peck sleepily.  
"Close enough..." said Smith, getting to his feet. "Come on Face, bedtime for you."  
"Aw...Hannibal..." but the protest was half-hearted, even Face had to admit he was bushed.  
"Come on." Smith put a hand under Peck's elbow and helped him off the couch. "There'll be plenty of time to make plans tomorrow."  
"Okay. 'Night guys..." he waved a vague hand.  
"G'Night Face," B.A. said, turning from the window.  
"Sleep well, Muchacho..." Murdock patted the rumpled fair hair as the smaller man allowed himself to be guided to the bedroom he and Smith were to share.   
Face gave a sigh of relief as Smith divested him of the robe he'd worn for most of the day and rolled him onto the mattress, pulling the sheet and duvet up over him. He was asleep almost immediately, with the gentle memory of soft lips brushing his forehead in a goodnight kiss.   
Rising from his kneeling position on the bed, Smith watched his lover for a moment, his heart swelling with love and thankfulness that the handsome young man lying so innocently asleep, belonged to him, heart and soul; they were truly matched, soul-mates for eternity and nothing anyone could do would ever change that.   
Smith brushed the disordered hair from the sleeping man's forehead and reiterated his vow that he would protect his lover, with his life if necessary, from men like Maddox and his gang of vermin.

Returning to the living-room area, Smith shared the simple but satisfying meal with his Captain and Sergeant and between mouthfuls, brought them both up to date with the events of the past twenty-four hours.  
"So what do you think of this Shrink, Hannibal?" B.A. asked, chewing a piece of burger.  
Murdock raised his eyebrows, but closed his mouth without saying anything as Smith shot him a quelling glance.  
"I think he knows what he's doing, B.A." he paused a moment, then went on ruefully. "Face doesn't think so - some of the time. But I think he's getting used to the idea."   
Baracus shook his head. "I don’ see how just thinkin’ about somethin’ terrible can make a guy blind. Not someone like Face, anyhow."  
"The mind can play strange tricks, Oh Baracian One," said Murdock in his normal voice, "you take it from one who knows."  
"I don't take nothing from a crazy man," replied Baracus, but without his customary heated tone.  
Smith shook his head. "No one can tell what goes on inside someone else's head, not really, no matter how well we know them." He paused, drinking from his refilled coffee mug. "We'll just have to wait and see what happens."  
"Are you gonna take Face back to see this guy?" asked B.A. gruffly, unwilling to appear to be anxious.  
"Yes, I'd like too." Smith paused again. "I wasn't sure about him when we first met, but I think he may be good for Face, he's certainly unusual...but we have enough problems to think of at the moment."  
"Yeah!" grunted B.A. "Like that scum Maddox and his gang..."  
"You have a plan yet, Hannibal?" asked Murdock, a smile lighting his dark eyes as he asked the well-used question.  
"Maybe..." smiled Smith enigmatically and lit a cigar, looking round to check that the bedroom door was closed.  
Murdock's eyes narrowed as the smoke wafted around the room, he sensed that Smith had had some kind of shock and he could guess what it had been. He hadn't said anything to Hannibal as he wasn't sure at the time, but he’d seen Peck tense up whenever Smith lit a cigar, even before his friend had lost his vision. Now he was more certain than ever, that it was only the love Peck had for his Colonel that had prevented him from shying away from the person who's smoking reminded him of the torment he'd been through.  
It had been obvious to Murdock that Smith hadn't any idea that anything was wrong, but it looked as though that had now changed. The pilot only hoped that his Colonel would not take on too much guilt over something he was not responsible for.

Whatever plan the Colonel had thought of was not immediately apparent, as after another ten minutes of general discussion about the defence of the cabin should it become necessary, he got to his feet, stubbing out the remains of his cigar. "Think I'll hit the sack guys." He stretched weary muscles, "Goodnight."  
"Sleep tight, Mon Col-on-el..." Murdock smiled at his commander, lifting a hand to his baseball cap in a passable salute.  
"'Night, Hannibal," growled B.A. "I'll take a last look round, check those alarms we planted."  
"Thanks, B.A."   
Murdock stood up, stretching his long frame, "I'll come with you, Big Guy, hold your hand in the big, black dark..."  
"Fool," grunted B.A., not rising to the bait, much to Murdock's surprise and Smith's gratitude; he was too tired to act as referee tonight.  
Shaking his head, he went through to the bathroom, closing the door on the Captain's anxious query: "You feelin' okay, B.A.?"  
When he entered the quiet bedroom, the moon was casting it's hard, silver light through the half-open curtains and Smith could clearly see Peck's bright hair spread over the pillow, the rest of the slim form hidden under the duvet.  
Sitting in the chair close to the bed he pulled off boots and socks, wriggling his toes in relief. After removing his shirt and pants, he climbed into the bed and carefully placed his automatic under his pillow, then snuggled up to the warm body curled up beside him. Face didn't wake, but stirred slghtly, uttering a faint murmur of protest as his lover's cooler skin impacted with his own warm flesh, then settled again as Hannibal's body fitted around him in a protective embrace.  
Smith kissed the back of his lover's neck. "Sleep safe, sleep well, Tem...I'm here..." and the Lieutenant's sensual lips parted in a smile, as even asleep, he registered his mate's love and devotion.   
Ten minutes later, the moon was beaming to an unappreciative audience, as Smith followed his partner into sleep.

Next day dawned bright and hot and after a late breakfast of orange juice, toast and coffee, Face decided the weather was much too good to sit around in the cabin, when he could be out in the fresh air and top up his already golden tan.   
He was looking bright and cool, in a pair of denim shorts and a pale blue shirt he’d had in his emergency bag.  
Smith frowned, he knew Face hadn't forgotten the threatening events of the previous day and his Lieutenant was just a shade too bright and cheerful to be genuine. He'd awakened twice in the night, shivering and anxiously clutching at Smith's protective arms, only settling again when Hannibal had reassured him by low-voiced words of love and touch that they were all safe.   
Although Smith was worried about his lover’s state of mind and the very real danger they all faced, he didn’t want to spoil Peck's pleasure in the bright light of the sunny day.  
Murdock immediately volunteered to accompany Face outside. Both he and B.A. were a trifle subdued as they’d watched their Colonel help their blind friend to eat his breakfast. It had been nothing too obtrusive, merely handing Face his glass and coffee cup and the faint fumble of the usually deft fingers as the Lieutenant picked up his toast; it had brought home to them, however, just how vulnerable their friend was and how easy it would be for him to get hurt, even accidentally, never mind if Maddox and his minions turned up.  
The Colonel’s initial plan had been to lure the drug dealers to them deliberately, where they would be ready for them, rather than wait for Maddox to find them before they were aware of the danger, but he needed to talk it over with the others first. The one flaw in his plan was having to use Peck as bait, he didn’t really relish putting his lover in any sort of danger, but knew it was inevitable, given the kind of men they were dealing with. One thing he was certain of, Maddox must never be allowed to torment Face again, when his mere presence outside of prison could unsettle his Lieutenant and cause him so much anxiety.   
Deciding that he could risk a short delay, he agreed with both his junior officers' requests and watched their faces light up with boyish glee. Shaking his head slightly, Smith warned them both to be careful and walked his partner to the door, while Murdock grabbed up a couple of folding chairs and followed them out onto the sundeck overlooking the small jetty.  
The cabin was in a secluded spot, hidden on three sides by tall pines and with the waters of the small lake on the fourth. The log-built building had large windows overlooking the lakeside, with a fair-sized sun-deck and a short flight of steps leading down onto the wooden jetty. A small rowing boat lay tied to the pilings and on any other occasion it would have been a pleasant spot for a vacation.  
Putting up the chairs and arranging them to get the full benefit of the morning sunshine, Murdock guided his friend to one and seated himself in the other, smiling up at his commander, as the older man hesitated.  
“Okay, Hannibal?”  
“Yeah, right...see you soon.” Smith brushed a light hand over Peck’s smooth blond mane, then went back inside the cabin. He decided it would be a good time to have a talk with B.A. on battle plans and get the Sergeant to make up some booby traps. He could talk over the whole plan later with Murdock and Face .  
He had sat beside the bed in the early dawn watching his lover sleep. Hannibal loved to watch his Lieutenant when he was unaware of being watched, the smooth planes of his handsome features, relaxed and innocent - it could still surprise Smith the way that Face could look so innocent, even after a night of sheer passion that left him with his heart pounding rapidly at the creative ways Face could make love, yet still leave himself open and trusting for Smith to reciprocate. Hannibal shook his head, silently marvelling at the inventive ways of his partner - he would never give him up, not in this lifetime.  
He’d reached out a hand and stroked the fringe from the broad, warm, brow, trying to think of a valid plan that would get the villains off their necks so they could concentrate on getting Face well and whole again, but all he could think of for the moment was how much he loved the sleeping man. His younger partner was lying on his side, the sheets fallen to his waist, white against the even tan of his naked torso, left hand tucked under the pillow, the other lying across his stomach. The handsome face was turned towards the Colonel, the dark crescent of his thick dark lashes casting faint shadows on his high cheekbones, his skin flushed a faint pink. Smith’s eyes focused on his lover’s mouth, the sensual lips were parted slightly, just begging to be kissed, thought Smith with helpless love. Unable to help himself, he leaned over and kissed the warm lips, then drew back hastily as the sleeper sighed. Turning his head, Face moved his right hand up his chest to touch his mouth, then settled again; leaving his lover disappointed, yet relieved that he hadn’t woken him from some much needed rest.  
Now though, seeing his two junior officers relaxing in the sunshine, he wondered whether it was such a good idea, after all. He didn’t really want to use his lover as bait, but if the plan went well, it would settle Maddox’s hash for good and all.

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER TWO   
T. rOUBLES (C)


End file.
